


Dr. Mulder and Mr. Scully

by GleefullyWicked



Series: Emily's Not Dead and Neither is Queequeg [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Swap, Diana's kind of in it but at least Chris Carter isn't writing this, Domestic Fluff, Emily's not dead and neither is Queequeg, Eventual Smut, F/M, MSR dating, Science stuff sometimes, This Story Has EVERYTHING, a reference to the masterpiece Actual Cannibal Shia LaBeouf, case files, eventual angst, fake married, it's not all fluff, maybe eventually real married..., so many tropes happen in this oh my god, starts during a canon-adjacent season 6, this is a direct sequel to Emily's Christmas Wish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-09-22 19:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GleefullyWicked/pseuds/GleefullyWicked
Summary: Join Mulder and Scully as they take on their most challenging task to date: a committed relationship. It's something that's especially hard to manage when Scully's got an all-too-perceptive little girl whose origins are shrouded in mystery and when our favorite FBI agents still have a job to do.





	1. First Dates and Fake Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who are joining me after reading Emily's Christmas Wish, welcome back to the wonderful world in which Scully wasn't given a daughter as just a torture porn plot device. I hope you guys end up enjoying this story as much as I enjoy writing it, and if so, please leave a comment. You have no idea how much I appreciate every single one.  
> Anyways, onward to the story.

Fox Mulder used to hate his alarm clock. That obnoxious electronic blaring was like the jarring equivalent of his dad shaking him awake as a kid. Now he doesn’t hate it as much. Not when he can turn the thing off, then roll over to meet the eyes of the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Good morning,” Scully says sleepily, curling up to him. She’d stayed over at his place last night, a rare occurrence in the weeks since they’d gotten together on Christmas, what with her having a child to take care of. But they’d gotten in so late from a case that Scully thought it best to leave Emily at her grandmother’s until morning.

“Good morning. You sleep okay?” Mulder asks, kissing the top of Scully’s head and inhaling the intoxicating scent that is just all her.

“No. Your mattress is lumpy.” She mumbles into his neck groggily.

“Guess we’ll just have to do this at your place next time.”

“I guess so, as long as you don’t mind early wake-up calls from a hungry Pomeranian and a four-year-old child.” Scully moves to get up, but Mulder holds her there.

“Nooo, it’s Saturday.” He whines, wanting nothing more than to keep her in bed with him all day long. They don’t get nearly enough alone time for his liking, even if they’ve taken to converting all of their adjoining motel rooms into suites. The Bureau doesn’t need to be in the know about them just yet.

“I have to get my dog from the boarder, my kid from my mom, and groceries because I actually have to have food at my place now.” Scully suddenly looks more tired than before.

“I’ll go with you.” Mulder offers, willing to do anything to spend a Saturday with Scully, even if that means helping wrangle her four-year-old in a grocery store. He might get dinner out of it.

“Really?” Scully asks as Mulder finally lets her go and she sits up in bed, running a hand through her hair.

“Yeah. We never get to do boring errands together.” Mulder insists, watching Scully’s every move as she gets up out of bed, completely naked.

“Probably because we’re so busy investigating unexplained phenomena.” She smiles back at him and goes into the bathroom. A few minutes later, Mulder hears the shower start running.

He just stays there in bed a moment, taking in the fact that this really is his life. The same Dana Scully who’s been debunking his theories for years just sauntered naked from his bed. He feels the urge to pinch himself as he follows her into the already steamy bathroom.

“Mind if I join you?” He half-yells over the sound of the running water.

“Get in here,” Scully says, one wet hand reaching around the shower curtain to do a come hither motion.

Not needing to be told twice, Mulder throws the curtain back and steps in, wrapping Scully up in his arms, marveling in the heat radiating off of her. “So I’ve been thinking,” he says, peppering kisses into her neck and shoulder as the spray of water hits his back.

“About?” She asks, running her fingers through his hair almost comfortingly.

“We’ve been dating for almost two months and we’ve yet to go on a _real_ date. One that doesn’t involve an assignment or a kids pizza place. Emily’s been on my case about it.” Mulder lets go of Scully so that he can grab his shampoo bottle, pouring some in his hands and lathering it into his hair, then rubbing it over his chest.

“Oh, she has?” Scully asks, clearly not looking into his eyes right now, just taking in the view.

“Yes, she really has. And it  _ is  _ Valentine’s Day tomorrow night…” Mulder closes his eyes and rinses off before he and Scully switch positions so that she can have the water again.

“Mulder, are you asking me out?” Scully asks, clearly amused at the context, but not complaining, either.

“I realize the setting is a little ridiculous,” Mulder says as he motions for Scully to turn around and grabs her shampoo (the extra travel bottle she’d brought over a few weeks ago for occasions like this). He begins rubbing it into her hair, massaging her scalp with his fingertips as he does.

“Yes, I’ll go out with you tomorrow night. Do you have a place in mind?” Scully asks, leaning her head back, eyes closed as she enjoys the sensation.

“You just leave that up to the Master of Romance, Dr. Scully,” Mulder smirks, having made these plans a week ago.

“Okay, but the  _ Master of Romance _ better have a reservation already because every place in the city will be packed.” Scully leans forward into the water.

“Ye of so little faith. You’re lucky you’re so pretty.” Mulder plants a kiss on Scully’s shoulder and admires the pattern of freckles.

“Mulder, I wasn’t kidding about being very busy today…” Scully trails off as his hands begin to wander down the front of her body, skimming over her breasts and then going still lower.

“I know.”

* * *

“Mommy, Fox!” Emily runs from her grandmother’s porch just as Mulder and Scully get out of the car. And to Scully’s very clear disappointment, she runs right into Mulder’s arms, laughing as he picks her up and swings her around.

“Ah, I missed you!” He says, setting her down to go and finally hug Scully.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just your flesh and blood who pays for your preschool,” Scully says playfully, hugging her daughter tight. They’d only been away for three days, but Mulder knows how hard even that long can be on her. He’s had to talk her down from impulsively quitting the Bureau in a fit of Mom Guilt before, reminding her that she probably sees her daughter more this way than she would as a staff doctor.

“Did you bring me anything?” Emily asks.

“Em, you know I can’t bring you a souvenir from everywhere we-“

While Scully’s saying that, Mulder pulls the Drummond, Montana keychain out of his pocket. It’s become a tradition for the two of them in the year Scully’s had custody.

“Thank you, Fox!” She says, taking it and looking over the lettering. “Home of the Bull...Bullshippers? What’s a Bullshipper?” It amazes Mulder that Emily can actually read that as he bursts into laughter.

Scully rolls her eyes. “It’s a play on words. It’s from a ranching community.” She explains, smacking Mulder in the arm. She’d told him to avoid a keychain with the town’s motto on it for this exact reason. There’s really nothing like a good old-fashioned cattle mutilation epidemic in the middle of nowhere. “You can put it with all the others at home.”

“I will!” Emily wastes no time in getting in the back of Scully’s car, strapping herself into her car seat, raring to go, but Mulder knows Scully needs to question her mother, who he waves to on the porch before he gets in the passenger side of the car.

“So, what did you and your grandma get up to while we were gone?” He asks, turning on the radio to an 80s station at a low volume.

“Ummm...I went to school, me and Grandma made cookies _ ,”  _ She thinks a second to see if she’s forgetting any important details. “Oh, and Grandma took me to the movies and we saw  _ October Sky _ yesterday _.” _

“Oh yeah? The one about the rocket scientists? How did you like that?” Mulder supposes that most adult men find conversing with a preschooler to be a chore, but aside from Scully, Emily is his best friend.

“I liked it! Homer’s daddy was mean to him at first because he didn’t want to be a coal miner but then he realized that Homer really loved rockets so everything was okay. Except for the teacher; she died.” Emily explains, likely spoiling the major plot points, but Mulder doesn’t really mind.

“Homer like Homer Simpson?” He asks, pushing her buttons with a smile.

“No, Homer Hickam Jr.! He was a NASA scientist.” Emily says, the slightly annoyed inflection in her voice reminding him all too much of Scully. 

“Oh, okay. Sounds like a really compelling story.” He says, changing the radio station when it goes to commercial.

“When are we going to launch  _ my  _ rocket?” Emily asks after a beat, making a thudding sound as she pats her legs with her hands impatiently, looking out the window for a sign of her mother finally coming to get in the car.

“When it gets just a little warmer, kid.” 

Emily’s been asking the same question once every week or so, wanting to finally play with Mulder’s Christmas present from her, but there’s still a good layer of snow on the ground.

On that note, Scully gets into the car, looking more tense than she had before her conversation with her mother. 

“What’s up?” Mulder asks, his hand reaching for hers as a comforting gesture. From the look of her, she needs it.

“Emily, would you like to tell us why the headmaster of your school wants to have a meeting about you on Monday?” She asks, her calm voice just barely hiding how angry she actually is as she starts up the car.

“I don’t know…” Emily trails off, sounding guilty.

“They just play with letter blocks there, right?” Mulder asks, surprised that Emily even  _ could  _ be in any kind of trouble, let alone that she actually is. She’s many things, but a troublemaker is not one of them.

“It’s actually one of the best Catholic preschools in the DC area. As you saw, Emily’s learning to read.” Scully fills him in. “But apparently, she’s been causing disruptions in class.”

“Sister Sarah put me in time out because I kept saying the answers to the math problems,” Emily admits, sounding ashamed.

This is apparently news to Scully. “You got in trouble for knowing the answers?” She asks, and Mulder swears he sees the exact moment she switches from punish to Mama Bear mode when Emily nods. “Oh, I am  _ definitely  _ going to have a talk with them about this.” Mulder’s seen Scully angry, but this is something else entirely. He almost has half a mind to offer to drive, knowing her proclivity for going through stop signs while emotional, but keeps his mouth shut, and they get to the grocery store in DC without incident. “Now, I’m only getting what’s on my shopping list, so no throwing things into the cart, okay?” Scully says this to Emily, but also to Mulder.

“Okay, Mom,” Mulder says, rolling his eyes and earning a giggle from Emily. He picks one of the carts with the kid seat attached to the back and motions for Emily to hop in.

“Behave yourself or I won’t take you shopping again,” Scully warns, wiping down the cart handle and pushing it into the store, beginning to zigzag down the aisles, checking off her list as she goes. When they walk past the Oreos, Mulder discreetly slips a package of Double Stuf into the cart. “Mulder, what did I literally just say?” Scully asks.

“You said not to throw anything into the cart. Which I didn’t do. I placed it gently in the cart.”

Scully sighs, looking up at the ceiling as if questioning all the life choices that led up to her dating Spooky Mulder and letting him be a corrupting influence around her child.  “Nothing else.” She says and keeps walking, Emily holding up her hand to high-five Mulder.

They continue on that way until Scully’s list is done and they check out, Mulder peeking at the tabloid trash as Scully pays. “Hey Scully, Jennifer Aniston’s having an alien baby and Brad is  _ not  _ happy about it.” He announces.

“I’d imagine not.” She says, taking her receipt and loading the bags into the cart.

“ _ Really?”  _ Emily asks Mulder, her eyes going wide.

“No, not really, sweetheart. Those magazines just say ridiculous things so people like Mulder will buy them.” She says, pushing the cart out to the car, Mulder following behind to help put the bags in the back of the car.

“I’m so offended. I would never buy that crap.” He insists, unbuckling Emily from the cart and helping her up into her car seat, which she straps herself into.

“Mommy, Fox said a bad word!” Emily says, pointing accusingly at Mulder.

“Nobody likes a tattletale, kid. Besides, crap is not a bad word.” He says as he gets in the car.

“It’s not?” Emily asks, surprised.

“Yes, it is,” Scully says, pulling out of the parking lot. “Mulder, watch your language. She’s a word sponge.”

They pick up Queequeg from the boarder on the way back to Scully’s place, Emily talking to him in his crate the rest of the way home and then taking him into her room to help her unpack.

Mulder helps Scully carry in the groceries, noting all the healthy food along with things like dinosaur chicken nuggets and berry applesauce, which honestly seem a bit more appealing. Scully silently begins putting things away, and Mulder can tell something’s bothering her. He gets up behind her and begins massaging her shoulders, earning an appreciative moan. 

“You’ve been tense all day.” He murmurs, planting a kiss to her neck.

“It’s just that I’m so frustrated, Mulder.” She admits.

“With me?” He asks, knowing he was probably being more than a little unhelpful with Emily earlier. Being serious with the kid doesn’t come easily to him; it’s not like he’s dated any other single mothers.

“No, not you—well, a little bit—but I’m mostly still upset about Emily’s school punishing her for being too smart,” Scully admits as she turns around to face Mulder.

“She’s a special little girl. Sometimes teachers just don’t know how to handle stuff like that. I once got beat with a paddle for correcting a teacher in second grade.” Mulder winces at the memory, though it seems oddly applicable when talking about a school’s stance on extraordinary children.

“Yeah, I got a yardstick to the ass from a nun for back-talking at least once.” Scully bites her lip and goes back to putting the groceries away, but Mulder knows something’s still on her mind. “Mulder, I have kind of a big favor to ask of you.” The fact that she says this without wanting to look Mulder in the eye tells him a lot already.

“I’m intrigued.” He says, hopping up to take a seat on the edge of the counter.

“Apparently, my mother was told the school wants to speak with  _ both  _ of Emily’s parents on Monday,” Scully explains.

“Well, that’s an easy fix. Just tell them she doesn’t have a father.” Mulder says, finding it hard to believe the school would be unaware of Emily’s home situation this late in the school year, but then, he knows Catholics aren’t crazy about non-nuclear families and that they’re good at ignoring things they find unseemly.

“So here’s the thing.” Scully turns to face him, looking  _ very  _ guilty. “It’s an exclusive school and I  _ may  _ have embellished Emily’s application slightly in order to portray a more conventional home life. And you were already going to be on her emergency contacts list…”

Mulder puts the puzzle pieces together and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Scully, did you list me as Emily’s father, who is married to you?”

“Uh, yes. But to be fair, I never thought anything like this would come up.” She at least has the decency to look guilty (in an unfairly adorable sort of way).

“Dana Scully lying on her kid’s Catholic school application. What is the world coming to? Alright, I’ll go. Do they think I’m a neurosurgeon or something?” At the end of the day, there really was no scenario in which Mulder would say no to this. Anything that involves pretending to be married to Scully all in the name of deceiving the Catholic Church and helping out Emily is a more than ideal situation in his book.

“No, they know we both work for the FBI. You more hours than me, hence you not being at the school events.” Scully explains, clearly having already taken this charade further than one application as she starts on dinner, sautéing some garlic and olive oil in a skillet then adding in some pre-chopped bell pepper and onion.

“Oh, so I’m an  _ absentee  _ father. That totally changes how I’m going to play this.” Mulder envisions in his head an abrasive persona who works long hours and has no time for his family. He’s basically Skinner, but with hair.

“Mulder, do  _ not _ do anything that will get Emily kicked out of school. It’s so close by and the teacher to student ratio is amazing.” Scully warns, but Mulder would never dream of doing something like that, even if the people at Emily’s school seem to him like stifling pricks.

“Anyone ever told you that you’re a really good mom?” He asks, honestly impressed at all Scully manages to do with so little help all the time.

“You’re just saying that because you want to stay for dinner.” Scully accentuates her point by dropping some chopped chicken breast into the sizzling skillet. “Fajitas.”

“Not that I don’t, because that smells delicious, but no. You don’t get near enough credit for all you do for that girl.” Mulder makes himself useful and stirs the pan while Scully grabs tortillas from a bag of unpacked non-perishable groceries.

“She’s my daughter. I just want what’s best for her.” She shrugs, but Mulder knows how much the recognition actually means to her, judging by the way the corners of her mouth creep up into a small smile.

“Did I ever mention how much I love this side of you?” Mulder asks, gesturing around them. He probably just grew way too accustomed to Dr. Scully the FBI agent over the years, because there are still parts of Dana that surprise him. Like how she’s hands down one of the best cooks he knows, or how she’s probably raising the next Homer Hickam Jr. (even if she doesn’t want to admit it because  _ of course  _ her only child would be obsessed with outer space of all things).

“No, but now you have.” Scully smiles and gets on her toes to kiss Mulder, her lips so soft against his.

“Ewww!” They break apart to turn and see Emily standing in the kitchen entryway, looking disgusted.

“Weren’t you the one that wanted us to get together?” Mulder asks, pulling Scully closer, to Emily’s apparent disgust.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that meant you’d be kissing all the time _._ It’s gross!” She scrunches up her face as if to emphasize her point.

“Kisses aren’t gross. Come here, I’ll show you,” Scully says, chasing Emily into the living room, laughing maniacally.

“No, Mommy, no!” Emily giggles as Scully picks her up and begins kissing her all over her face while her little legs flail. They both look as happy as Mulder’s ever seen them he takes in the scene before him and thinks he could definitely do this the rest of his life.

* * *

“Now, you have my cell phone number, Mulder’s cell phone number, and my mother’s home phone on this list, all of which Emily’s memorized if something happens to the list. I also included the number for poison control. You hopefully won’t need that but just in case.” Scully uses a magnet to put the list on the refrigerator. “And she has no known food allergies. There’s money in the kitchen to order pizza and she likes Canadian bacon.  _ Just  _ Canadian bacon, no pineapple. Any questions?”

The girl shrugs. “I think you covered everything, Dr. Scully; I’ll take good care of her. Go have fun with your boyfriend.” She indicates Mulder, who’s been waiting through Scully’s rundown of everything from Emily’s bedtime routine to what movies will help make her sleepy. It’s all very endearing in a neurotic Scully kind of way, though even Emily didn’t have the patience to sit through all of it and ran off to play in her room.

“Thanks, Jessica. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Scully turns in the direction of Emily’s room. “Bye, Emily!”

“Bye, Mommy!” Emily calls faintly from her room.

“Ready?” Mulder asks, holding his arm out. Scully nods and takes it, letting him lead her to his car, opening the door for her.

“So, where are you taking me?” She asks when he gets in the car and buckles his seatbelt.

“I was thinking Bennigan’s and the planetarium, actually,” Mulder says this as a joke, but Scully looks at him like he might actually be serious. “Actually, I got us reservations at Michel Richard Citronelle.”

“You did not,” Scully says, but Mulder holds strong. “Six years and you’re still surprising me.” She gives him a small smile before turning to look out the window to watch the passing street lights. 

Mulder could say the same, thinking that he doesn’t know how he’s been in this car so many times with this woman and is only now able to say how much he really loves her. What was he thinking?

The wait is out the door when they arrive at the restaurant and Mulder strolls up to the hostess with Scully, smirking as they’re immediately brought back to their table. “You really thought I was lying about having a reservation, didn’t you?” He asks.

“Clearly I need to stop being surprised by you,” Scully begins looking over the wine menu and Mulder can’t help but fixate on the way her lips purse as she spots what he imagines is likely a white Zinfandel or a Pinot Grigio, her favorites, depending on what she orders for dinner.

“Clearly.” Mulder sips his water as he begins to do the same as her, then thinking he could maybe go for a microbrew or something on the rocks tonight.

“Oh my god, Dana? Is that you?” The train of thought about proper pairings is interrupted as Mulder and Scully’s attention is drawn to the table next to theirs, where a skinny man with a receding hairline is seated across from a blonde woman in glasses as he signs his credit card receipt

“Ethan?” Scully’s voice betrays how truly unhappy she is to see this man. He must be her ex. That Ethan.

“Wow, I haven’t seen you in what, six years? You look so great!” He indicates the woman with him, who looks almost as uncomfortable with this situation as Scully. “This is my wife, Cathy.”

“Yeah, I’d heard you’d met someone. It’s nice to meet you, Cathy. When did you two get married?” There’s a certain inflection in Scully’s voice that Mulder knows well. The one she gets when she’s deeply uncomfortable but doesn’t want to let on that she is. Mulder unconsciously reaches across the table to take her hand comfortingly.

“Four years ago today, actually,” Ethan says before his wife can, then finally seems to notice Mulder. “Who’s your friend?” He pointedly looks to their joined hands, a twinge of jealousy in his voice that Mulder thinks is incredibly inappropriate on at least three levels right about now.

“Um, Ethan, this is Fox Mulder, my…” Scully hesitates, not knowing exactly what to call Mulder, though he’d actually really liked Jessica referring to him as her boyfriend earlier. 

In this split second, Mulder makes a decision. Because he realizes he already knows exactly who this is: Ethan Minette, Scully’s ex-boyfriend and investigative reporter who’s been instrumental in making it nearly impossible for him to make any new congressional connections. The guy who dumped Scully when she’d joined the X files and didn’t have as much time for him anymore. The guy who, when breaking up with Scully  _ over the phone  _ when she was away on a case, told her that she would regret pushing  _ him _ away one day. Mulder knows exactly who Ethan Minette is, and he doesn’t fucking like him.

“I’m her husband. Man, you’d think after five years it would be easier to tell people.” Mulder grins and squeezes Scully’s hand tighter as if to say,  _ ‘Just roll with it. I’ll get rid of this guy.’  _

She must get it when she smiles broadly, nodding. “Yes, this is my husband, Fox Mulder. I think you two might already know of each other.”

“Oh. I thought you two were just partners. Nobody told me you two had-” Ethan looks almost crushed while his wife looks like she might want to sink into the floor. Mulder can’t blame her.

“Well, what can I say, Ethan: once you go Spooky-” Mulder’s comment is cut short by a kick to his shin from Scully.

“What he means to say is that it’s not unheard of for people who spend long hours together to form a certain...bond,” Scully explains, which Mulder is sure would have been Ethan’s worst nightmare to hear six years ago, and that’s exactly why she said it. So there’s really no further harm in what Mulder does next.

“Yeah, and our daughter certainly has helped that bond.” He pulls his wallet out of his pocket and shows off Emily’s mall Santa picture. “There’s my little pride and joy. Isn’t she Dana’s spitting image?”

“She- she is.” Nothing like an adorable little kid to get rid of an oddly jealous ex-boyfriend. “Well, I’m so glad everything worked out for you, Dana. We better get going now.” Ethan gets his jacket and begins to usher out his wife, who Mulder has a strong inkling will be forcing her husband to sleep on the couch tonight.  _ Happy Anniversary, jackass. _

“You too, Ethan.” Scully waves and takes a sip of her water. “You’re insane, you know that?” She asks while she picks up her dinner menu.

“Hey, I’m only getting warmed up for tomorrow, Mrs. Mulder,”  He says pointedly.

“Well, if you hold character like that at Emily’s school, I think we’ll be fine, Mr. Scully.” She smiles.

* * *

“I think that was probably one of the best meals I’ve ever had, even if my wallet’s crying right now.” Mulder unlocks his car, checking his watch to make sure they aren’t going to be late to the next part of their evening before getting in and starting it up.

“It was very delicious and you’re incredibly thoughtful for taking me there.” Scully leans across the center console to give him a kiss on the cheek before buckling her seatbelt. “But you know as well as anyone that you don’t have to take me to fancy restaurants or buy me expensive things to impress me. I know you better than anyone and I still love you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Mulder nods, “But I think that means you’re really going to love the next part of tonight because my budget is now capped at $20.”

“Mulder, remember that I have to relieve the babysitter by 10,” Scully warns.

“Midnight, actually. I slipped her some extra cash when you were busy checking the fire extinguisher.” Mulder admits.

Scully rolls her eyes. “Well then, what’s next on the agenda, Moneybags?”

“Now you get a choice. A) The Planetarium.” Scully gives a big thumbs down at this suggestion. “B) The drive-in outside the city is doing a special showing of  _ Love Story _ ,”

Scully gives another thumb down. “Too depressing. Not to mention stupid. ‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry’? That’s ridiculous. I don’t know why people like it so much.”

“That’s exactly what I thought!” Mulder laughs. “Okay, C) You and I go park this car in a secluded area and steam these windows like we’re in the cargo room on the Titanic.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Tempting. Very tempting. But how about D) You and I go to the video store and rent  _ Titanic  _ and whatever happens on your couch happens.”

“Deal.” Mulder turns the key in the ignition and begins driving to Blockbuster. “Did you know it’s the only James Cameron movie to not feature nuclear war or space?” Mulder kind of hates himself for knowing that, but what can he do.

“I didn’t, but I’ll treasure that information forever.” Scully rolls her eyes at him, but she’s smiling.

They get to Mulder’s place in twenty minutes, popcorn and candy in the Hollywood Video bag along with the double VHS pack of  _ Titanic.  _ Scully makes herself comfortable on the couch as the movie’s fake archive footage plays over the opening credits and Mulder goes to make the popcorn. He can’t remember a time in his life before this when he could just be normal and comfortable with a woman who won’t take any of his shit but who still loves him anyway. For a brief moment, he had thought that Diana reemerging in his life would bring back those old feelings, but if anything, it’s only accentuated how absolutely essential Scully is to him.

“Don’t burn the popcorn!” She yells from the living room on that note and Mulder smiles.

“If I take it out now, it’ll be half kernels!” He yells back as he gives in and pushes the cancel button on the microwave. The things he does for the woman he loves.


	2. Another Day, Another Cryptid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mulder and Scully try to go about their lives when there could be a sasquatch in Oregon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all had a good Holiday season. Please enjoy this chapter as it includes the very first scene I ever thought up for this universe (yes, even before the Christmas story).

If Scully has to write one more report that essentially boils down to, ‘ _ Well, it was probably this ridiculous thing that defies all logic, but we have no evidence to prove that fact, so I can’t definitively conclude it and must thus leave this case unexplained.’  _ She knows she’s going to scream. Sometimes this job really drags her down, even if she loves it. She hums Dolly Parton to herself as she writes a paragraph about how the cows could have been exsanguinated by extraterrestrials wanting to study them but more likely the town has some sadistic, bored teenagers.

“Mulder, can we agree that for my sanity’s sake, we’ll never investigate another cattle mutilation case? Without any real physical evidence of aliens, it just makes us seem like lunatics.” Scully asks, putting her glasses up on her head.

“One of these days we’ll get it.” He mumbles, clearly only paying about 50% attention to her as he reads a potential case file.

Scully had insisted to Mulder that she wanted to go at least a couple weeks before their next overnight trip, so he’s been rifling through the new files, looking for Virginia, Connecticut or maybe Maryland while she gets them caught up on reports. They used to be so much easier to write when she had all the time in the world at home, but that’s just not the case with Emily around.

“One of these days I’m going to toss this computer across the room. Mark my words.” Scully sighs and begins typing again, wishing she had it in her to just bullshit the thing with a bunch of waxing poetic about the universe like Mulder always does, but her perfectionism always gets the best of her.

“How do you feel about checking out a possible Bigfoot sighting?” Mulder asks without an ounce of sarcasm in his voice and Scully can feel herself slump back in her chair just a bit.

“I can show you the map of Bigfoot sightings and it’s almost identical to a population density map,” Scully says, not even looking up from her computer as she continues typing her conclusion, wanting to power through.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Mulder sighs and Scully waits to hear the sound of a manila folder being tossed into the reject pile, but that never happens. “Now here’s something…” He trails off.

Scully rolls her eyes; she knows that tone well. “What did you find?”

“You ever hear of the actor Francois “Frankie” Lavelle?” Mulder asks, but Scully hasn’t, so she gestures for him to explain further. “He is—well, he  _ was _ —a teen actor on the Disney Channel. Emily still watches the reruns of his show.”

“Oh right, the one about the family with all the kids.” Scully nods, thinking that probably explains many of the shows on that channel and not wanting to admit that Emily’s TV Time is generally Mommy’s Wine and Book Time.

“Exactly. Well, after that show got canceled five years ago, I guess Frankie decided he wanted to become a more serious method actor for his upcoming film. Except he never showed up for the shoot and nobody has seen him since. Not his manager, his family, nothing.” Mulder wheels his chair closer to Scully and hands her the folder.

“Mulder, I’m confused as to how a normal missing person’s case is an X-file,” Scully says, skeptical as she opens the file, finding the same kinds of blurry pictures she’s become way too used to in Bigfoot cases, along with a driver’s license photo of Francois Lavelle (who is apparently 29, despite playing a teenager five years ago).

“Because the last time anyone saw Frankie, he said he was going to go live in the woods near his hometown to get into character for some mountain man survival movie. And in the past few years, there have been Sasquatch sightings all around the area where Frankie was supposed to be, with some people claiming that they just barely escaped with their lives.” Mulder reaches over to point out the hospital records of five patients, all reporting to have been attacked by some kind of humanoid...thing.

“Mulder, are you seriously suggesting that five years ago, a Disney Channel actor was abducted by Bigfoot?” Scully asks, looking up from the file, knowing for a fact they’re going to investigate this or she’ll never hear the end of it. It’s amazing how the only thing that’s really changed between them at work since they started dating is that now Mulder can bother her at home about this stuff.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. But I think it’s worth checking out.”

“Fine. We can drive there tomorrow.” Scully agrees. Besides, if they aren’t on a case, she’s just going to spend another day in this basement, writing reports for Skinner that probably go straight to the shredder.

“That’s just the thing. It’s actually in Oregon…” Mulder trails off. Oregon means at least several days away from DC while they look for a Sasquatch.

“Mulder, no. We just got back and I promised Emily that I would stay home for a little while. Besides, this sounds eerily similar to the Jersey Devil case we looked into in ‘93.” Scully takes the glasses off her head and begins cleaning them with her shirt.

“I know, but the last attack was early this morning and I really think we need to jump on this before the trail runs cold again.” To Mulder’s credit, he does at least seem to feel a little guilty about taking Scully away from her daughter to investigate a cryptic sighting on the other end of the country.

“Fine. God, she’s going to hate me for this.” Scully sighs, putting the glasses in their case before looking at the clock in the corner of her computer, seeing it’s already past 2. “Oh crap, we have to get going,” She gets up from her desk and grabs her blazer from the back of the chair, putting it on and then going to grab her overcoat.

“Huh?” Mulder asks, still not moving.

“The meeting with Emily’s headmaster? It’s at 3.” Scully throws his coat in his lap.

“Well, let’s go. I wanna give that jerk a piece of my mind.” Mulder pulls on his jacket leads Scully out to his car, barely giving it time to warm up before they take off.

“Do you remember where it is?” Scully asks once they’re on the freeway. Thankfully, they’re beating rush hour.

“Big, creepy, church-like building about halfway between here and your mom’s house, right?” Mulder asks.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Scully rolls her eyes, knowing he’s going to give her shit for putting Emily in Catholic school for as long as they live. Though it’s still incredibly of him to even play along with what was honestly a stupid idea from the get-go. “Mulder, I can’t tell you how much this means to me that you’re actually doing this.”

“I know she’s not my daughter, but Emily means the world to me. Of course I’m going to help her when some fascist in a white collar doesn’t like it that the kid’s smart.” Mulder turns on the radio, leaving it on the same channel when he hears “Hold My Hand” by Hootie and the Blowfish.

“Well, let’s please hold off on the fascist stuff while we’re in there, but thank you.” Scully’s not sure if Mulder’s aware of the fact that him loving her daughter is by far her favorite of his qualities, but it is, regardless. Sure, she loves that he’s handsome and smart and brave almost to a fault, but when he makes her daughter smile, that’s what tells her she made the right choice.

But even with Mulder there for support, Scully can’t help but worry. She’s probably been away from Emily a lot more than she should, and maybe that has something to do with her acting out. Or maybe she’s just a crap mom, even when she  _ is  _ around. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, alright? They try to kick her out and we’ll threaten to sue them all.” Mulder puts a comforting hand on her knee while he continues to steer with the other. She swears he can read her mind sometimes.

“You’re having way too much fun with this character.” Scully laughs, thinking about all of her most serious relationships, and how not Ethan nor Daniel would have ever done something as crazy as being her fake husband for a parent-teacher conference. Hell, she seriously doubts either of them would have wanted anything to do with her if she’d had Emily back then. She’s found that the concept of a so-called MILF (a term Mulder taught her a few weeks ago and that she highly suspects came from porn or Penthouse forum) is much more alluring to men in the abstract than it is in practice.

“Of course I am. The three of us get to be a little family.” Mulder smiles wide as Scully can’t help but blush a bit. Of course, she’s never seen what she and Mulder have as being in any way temporary, but she’s so used to men allergic to commitment (or who are otherwise committed to other women) that she can hardly believe  _ Fox Mulder _ is the antithesis of them. But she wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Take the next exit.” She says, and on that note, she pulls her cell phone out of her purse to call her mother. If she and Mulder are going to Oregon in the morning, then they have to drop Emily and Queequeg off tonight. She tries to keep it as brief as possible, still too worried about the meeting with Father Patrick to want to talk in-depth about her mother’s new succulent fairy garden. But luckily, this is a favor she’s asked of her mother dozens of times, so it doesn’t have to be complicated.

“Well?” Mulder asks when she hangs up the phone, noticing that she’s clearly hesitating to tell him her mother’s demand in exchange for watching the kid and dog.

“My mom says you and I have to stay for dinner,” Scully winces saying it out loud. They’ve not all gotten together since she and Mulder officially started dating and she knows her mother will have about a thousand embarrassing questions, but Mulder’s completely unfazed.

“I hope she makes meatloaf.” Mulder pulls into the school parking lot, getting out to walk around and open Scully’s door for her. “After you, my beloved wife.”

“Don’t overdo it. You’re supposed to be a distant father who just pays the bills, remember?” Scully reminds him, thinking that the last thing she needs is for Mulder to be invited to join the PTA before her.

“Oh right.” Mulder clears his throat and straightens his tie. “Now now, Dana. Let’s go see what kind of trouble that little scamp of ours has gotten into. Though I must admit that I suspect she may not be mine.” He puts his hand on the small of Scully’s back as they walk up the steps to the school.

“You’re an idiot.” She deadpans.

“Now, that’s not a very nice thing to say to the probable but not certain father of your-” Scully smacks Mulder in the shoulder. “Ow!” He rubs at it exaggeratedly just as the school’s bell rings and kids begin rushing out as if a floodgate opened.

“We’re late. We better hurry.” Scully says, leading the way to the headmaster’s office as she and Mulder weave through kids like they’re swimming upstream.

Mulder stops briefly in front of a rather large and graphic statue of Jesus being crucified. “My God.” He says, appalled.

"I thought he isn't?" Scully asks, thinking herself hilarious, but earning only a tired look from Mulder. “Yeah, just ignore it.” Scully opens the door into the office waiting area for Mulder and follows him in, finding Emily already seated in a chair, swinging her legs and reading  _ Corduroy. _

She looks up when the door closes, grinning. “Hi Mommy, hi Fox!”

“Hi, sweetheart.” Scully kneels down in front of Emily. “Remember what I told you about calling your dad by his first name?” Scully says this just loud enough for the receptionist to hear. 

Emily nods knowingly. “That I’m not supposed to.” She feigns being ashamed. “Sorry, Daddy.”

“That’s okay, Princess.” Emily makes a face at this nickname as Mulder strides up to the receptionist. “Fox and Dana Scully. We have an appointment with Father Patrick.”

“Oh yes, go on in.” She motions to the priest’s office, the door left slightly ajar.

Scully leads the way in, the heels of her shoes clunking against the thin carpet. “Good afternoon, Father Patrick,” She greets the elderly man warmly, though she squeezes his hand hard enough to see the whites of her knuckles.

“Dr. Scully, so good to see you again.” He turns to Mulder, extending his hand to him while discreetly flexing his fingers. “And this must be Mr. Scully.”

“You guessed it.” Mulder shakes his hand, then takes one of the two seats across from the desk, Scully taking the other.

“Now, I’d like to start off by saying that under no circumstances is little Emily in any kind of trouble.” This is news to Scully and Mulder alike as they share a look, having prepared for the worst. “As I’m sure the both of you are already aware, she is an...incredibly bright child. In fact, I believe she’s gotten bored with our preschool curriculum, which is what’s led to Sister Sarah’s complaints.” Father Patrick opens Emily’s file on his desk, and Scully wonders if every kid has that much documentation before they even hit kindergarten. Probably not.

“So what, are you going to give her something more challenging to work on?” Mulder asks, craning his neck in an obvious ploy to see what’s been written about Emily.

“Essentially, yes, Mr. Scully.” Father Patrick slams the folder shut when he sees Mulder peeking. “I’m going to recommend that we move Emily up to the first grade, effective as soon as possible.”

“That’s...that’s a really big jump. You realize she still watches those British alien things that have the robot vacuum cleaner, right?” Mulder asks.

“Plus, I’ve heard that skipping grades can really impact kids’ social development,” Scully interjects. “What’s it going to do to her to have to leave all of her friends to go to a class with big kids? I don’t know if she’s ready for that.” She’s honestly still trying to wrap her head around this news. As Mulder said, in many ways, Emily still is a very little girl, no matter how high she can score on a standardized test.

“That actually brings me to the other reason I’ve asked the two of you to come here today. You see, Sister Sarah has noticed that Emily doesn’t seem to have any friends here at school, and it’s not for a lack of trying.”

“She’s never mentioned this to either of us.” Scully thinks she’s possibly the worst mother on the planet. She had never even thought to ask about these things because it never occurred to her as a possibility for Emily. Even with her more awkward tendencies and moving around a lot, Scully herself always had a group of friends. To think that her little girl doesn’t have any at all is enough to break her heart.

“That honestly doesn’t surprise me, Dr. Scully. Emily is a very smart little girl and I believe that just makes it difficult for her to relate with children her own age. It might not be as big of a deal to her as it is to us,” Father Patrick folds his hands on the top of the desk. “Now, the decision is ultimately up to the two of you. If you think Emily would be better off where she is, then that’s what we’ll do, but I personally would recommend moving her up. With any luck, older children might feel more inclined to take her under their wing.”

“Yeah or what if she gets bullied? You don’t think a class of six-year-olds is above picking on a 4-year-old brainiac?” Mulder 

“I think we should do it.” Scully turns to Mulder, though she doesn’t even know why she’s conferring with him on this. He isn’t Emily’s father and the decision should be hers alone. And yet, she finds herself in a situation where she could really use a second opinion. Besides, it’s exhausting doing everything alone.

“Really?” He asks, reaching over to take her hand, supportive. God does she love him right now.

“If she’s not able to connect with kids her own age, then I’m not going to have her stay in a position that isn’t going to change. She’s bored. She needs a challenge.” It’s not an easy decision, that’s for sure. If anything bad were to happen to Scully’s daughter because of a unilateral decision she made for her, she would never forgive herself. But then, that’s parenting, if she’s learned anything at all in the last year or so of doing this.

“I know, I just worry about the kid. But if she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be just fine.”

“So we’re all in agreement, then? I could probably get Emily into her new class as soon as next week if that would work for the two of you?”

Scully nods.

“Well, great. Thank you both for coming in today. I promise you we’ll keep you updated on how Emily handles the move.”

“Hey Father, can you answer me something?”

“Of course, Mr. Scully.”

“You ever think the big bloody Jesus statue in the hall might be frightening to children?”

Scully smacks his arm. “He’s kidding. Thank you again, Father Patrick.” She pulls Mulder back out into the waiting room in an attempt to stop him from saying anything else snarky. “Okay, Em. You ready to go?” She asks, and Emily sticks the book in her backpack before putting it on.

“Let’s go!” She hops down from the chair and leads the way out, the hallways now almost completely empty. “Hey, Mommy?” Emily asks once they’re outside and walking to Mulder’s car, Scully taking her hand when they get to the parking lot.

“Yes?” She asks as Mulder comes up on Emily’s other side and takes her other hand.

“You told me that it’s not okay to lie. So why am I supposed to say Fox is my daddy at school? Isn’t that a lie?” Emily looks up at Scully inquisitively, while Mulder holds back laughter. Good to know he gets a kick out of her being in a tough spot with her kid.

“Well...you see, Sweetheart. Sometimes, in  _ very rare _ instances, it’s okay to lie if the intention behind it is good. We lied to the school about Mulder because I don’t want you to be treated differently because you don’t have a dad.” Scully opens the back door of Mulder’s car for Emily when he unlocks it, helping her buckle in, in the absence of her car seat. “Does that make sense?”

“I guess so. But why  _ don’t  _ I have a dad if everyone else is supposed to have one?”

“Oh boy.” Mulder cracks up from the driver’s seat.

“That’s...a very hard question. Which I will explain when you’re a little older.” Scully closes the car door and gets in on the passenger side, not wanting to explain where naturally-occurring babies come from without at least a glass of red wine in her system, let alone in-vitro fertilization and surrogacy for the purpose of a top-secret government experiment.

“But I want to know now!” Scully can see Emily’s face turn red in the rearview mirror. “Tell me!”

“Hey, no yelling at your mom or I won’t stop at Dairy Queen on the way back to your place,” Mulder warns, and Scully swears it’s the first time she’s ever heard him be firm with Emily, even if it’s tied to a sugar bribe. She doesn’t mind it.

“Thank you,” She mouths to him and enjoys the silence on the drive to get soft serve before they head home, Emily too preoccupied with her cone to be very talkative.

Scully sends Mulder and Emily to finish their quickly melting ice cream in the kitchen and finds Queequeg asleep on her bed, sprawling his little body as far as he can. She smiles as she pets him, his eyes just barely opening from his nap. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to leave you again. It’s amazing you don’t hate me by now.” She leans down and kisses the top of his head. “Do you wanna go for a walk?”

Queequeg’s ears prick up at the last word and he jumps up, turning in circles on the bed.

Scully laughs, moving to get his leash from the top of her dresser and clipping it on before going to the front door. “Mulder, watch Emily.” She says without actually having to, finding the two of them still in the kitchen, Mulder using a wetted napkin to get the dried-on chocolate ice cream off of Emily’s face. 

“You got it.” He mock-salutes at her and she takes Queequeg outside, beginning to walk him around the block. 

It’s always been a nice neighborhood, but lately, Scully’s been contemplating the pros and cons of a move. Space isn’t really the concern, as even with Emily, her apartment has enough bedrooms, but she wonders if the two of them might be better suited for a little house. One with a yard for Emily to have her own swing set, and for Queequeg to run free. Maybe a little closer to her mother’s house so she doesn’t have to have an hour-long drive of shame whenever she has to drop Emily off. Nothing too close to a city, either.

Queequeg stops to pee on a fire hydrant.

“You know that’s a cliché, right?” Scully asks him, earning a yip in response. She laughs and keeps walking, thinking that maybe she could convince Mulder to move in with them once his lease is up. She knows he has a sort of love-hate relationship with his own apartment, especially after all that’s happened in it. She feels the same about hers. In a way, maybe they could both use a fresh start, together. It’s rare that they ever sleep apart, anyway. She finishes Queequeg’s walk and takes him back up to the apartment, his travel crate already by the door, courtesy of Mulder, who’s carrying his bag of food out of the pantry.

“I took the liberty of telling the kid about our assignment. She’s packing for your mom’s house in her room.” Mulder says, setting the food down by the crate as Queequeg trots up to sniff at it.

“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.” Scully says, giving him a quick peck on the lips and heading into Emily’s room to make sure she doesn’t forget anything. She knocks on the doorframe, but Emily doesn’t turn to look at her, folding one of her clean plaid school jumpers on the bed and putting it into her little purple suitcase.

“Where are you going this time?” She asks, the sadness in her voice all too apparent.

Scully sighs. She really should have known she couldn’t go back on her word without backlash. “Oregon. It’s on the west coast, between California and Washington- the state, not D.C.” Scully walks to Emily’s drawers and pulls out a few pairs of socks—she always forgets her socks. “Actually, Oregon is where Mulder and I went on our very first case together, before you were born.”

“Forever ago,” Emily says and takes the socks from Scully, tucking them into the suitcase next to her pajamas.

“Yeah, it was.” Scully hangs back a bit as Emily continues to silently pack her suitcase, clearly not happy with her. “We’ll be back soon and then you and I can go school supply shopping.” Scully figures that the best way to break the news about the grade skip is by throwing it in with what she knows to be one of her daughter’s favorite things, and if that doesn’t work...well, she’s already mad at her.

“But we already did that,” Emily says, suspicious, though she’s finally looking at Scully, which is an improvement.

“You know how Mulder and I talked to Father Patrick about you today?” Scully takes a seat on the side of Emily’s bed and pats the spot next to her. 

“Am I in trouble?” Emily asks, climbing up to sit beside her.

“No, not at all.” Scully shakes her head. “He says that because you’re  _ so smart _ , they want you to start going to first grade instead of preschool.”

“Really?!” Emily seems more excited about the change than Scully had thought. It’s honestly making her feel better about all this. “Does that mean I get to play on the big swings at recess?” She asks.

“Probably. You aren’t scared of learning with a bunch of big kids, though?” Scully asks.

Emily shakes her head. “Nuh uh. I’m not scared of anything, like you and Fox.”

“Mulder and I are scared of lots of things- it’s okay to be scared. But you’re very brave and I’m so proud of you.” Scully pulls Emily in for a hug and leans down to kiss the top of her head. She’d always envisioned herself as eventually being a mother, and for a while when that seemed like an impossibility, she’d almost convinced herself that she really could do without it—kids are messy and time-consuming and loud, after all—but she never fully realized that her child would mean so much to her until Emily.

“Do you really have to go again?” Emily asks, holding Scully tighter.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Munchkin. But I promise I’ll be gone for two days, tops. If Mulder tries to make me stay longer, I’ll just leave him in the woods with Bigfoot.” Scully’s joking, but a part of her thinks Mulder might actually enjoy that.

Emily, however, pulls away, looking absolutely appalled that her mother could even suggest such a thing. “No, don’t do that! Bigfoot will eat him and I like Fox!” 

“Really?” Scully asks when, speak of the devil, Mulder appears in the hallway, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms.

“Yes! He’s funny and he still needs to help me build my rocket.” Emily replies.

“Well, then I’ll be sure to keep him around as long as he’s useful,” Scully says, to Mulder’s laughter.

“You should keep him around forever,” Emily says, hopping down from the bed to finish packing.

“Maybe I will…” Scully says pointedly as she leaves Emily to it and goes to join Mulder, who’s raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe, huh?” He asks, pulling her in by her waist.

“Well, forever  _ is  _ by definition a very long time. I wouldn’t want to be presumptuous.” Scully rests her hands on his shoulders.

“How polite of you.” Mulder leans down to kiss her, but unfortunately, that doesn’t last forever. “I made a few calls and I was able to get us two first class tickets on the red-eye to Portland tonight after dinner with your mom. Figured that would get us back here sooner.” He says, reaching down to take Scully’s hand.

“That’s...perfect. Thank you.” Scully looks back into Emily’s room, seeing her put her Furby in the suitcase along with her toothbrush. “Mulder, am I a bad mother?” She asks. It’s been nagging at her for months.

“Of course not. Scully, you’re working to make the world a better place for your kid to grow up in and she’s in good hands with your mom. Just because you aren’t the president of the PTA doesn’t make you a bad mother.” Mulder brings her hand up to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

“I’m not even  _ in  _ the PTA,” Scully admits, and Mulder lets go of her hand.

“Well, in that case…”

“Shut up,”

* * *

When Scully and Mulder finally land in Portland, it’s 7 AM, and despite becoming a relatively good plane sleeper over the years, she’s exhausted. Their layover in Denver took slightly longer than expected, and it being winter, the terminal was freezing. She and Mulder found themselves huddled together using their overcoats as blankets, which was admittedly not too bad, but it definitely put a damper on how much sleep they got.

Mulder gets them their car and Scully finds herself dozing on the drive to Sandy, Oregon, closing her eyes as they get on the freeway and opening them as Mount Hood looms over them.

“I guess President Warren Harding’s mistress lived here.” She hears Mulder say as they pass the town’s welcome sign.

“It did not say that.” She rubs her eyes, sitting up straight in her seat.

“No, but it’s true. After he keeled over, she wrote a tell-all book filled with stories about sex in the closets of the White House and an illegitimate daughter, and then she moved here in shame after she was sued for libel. It’s really typical, actually. The president sleeps around and the woman ends up paying for it in the end. Literally.”

“I take it you aren’t a fan of Warren Harding?”

“I’m not a fan of big men in power thinking they can get away with whatever they want because there will always be a scapegoat.”

“I’m sure Monica Lewinsky would agree with you.” Scully thinks back to them just a few days ago watching the failed impeachment proceedings in their motel room in Montana.

Mulder pulls up in front of their hotel, an old building that Scully might think looks vaguely haunted if she were the kind of person to believe in that stuff readily. “Wonder if they have HBO?”  He says this mostly to himself as he gets out of the car, opening the trunk and taking out their bags.

“From the looks of this place, Mulder, I would be surprised if they  _ have  _ a tv.” Scully pulls up the handle and rolls her suitcase into the lobby, seeing a large stuffed moose head hanging above the front desk. Mulder hangs back to look at the decor as she gets them checked in, then they begin their trek up the stairs to the third floor—no elevator, of course. “This is the last time I’m letting you book where we stay.” Scully grunts as she pulls her suitcase up behind her and it whacks her in the back of the ankle.

“Apparently this place has some of the best room service in the state,” Mulder says in his defense and takes her suitcase, lugging it the rest of the way to their adjoining rooms with his own bag over his shoulder, setting hers down when Scully hands him his room key. “See you in 20?”

“You know where to find me.” At that, Mulder goes into his room and Scully hers, where she can finally assess her living arrangements. Despite the exterior, it’s a pretty standard (if somewhat outdated) king bed hotel room. There  _ is  _ a TV, and the bathroom is cleaner than average, so maybe Mulder’s sources aren’t as bad as she’d thought. She unpacks her toiletries and takes a look at herself in the bathroom mirror. What remains of yesterday’s makeup is somewhat smudged on her face, and her hair doesn’t know which direction it wants to go. She looks a mess, as she has in the hundreds of times that she and Mulder have taken an overnight flight somewhere, but the thing about being in a relationship with him is that she actually  _ cares  _ now. Which is admittedly ridiculous considering the man has seen her in every state imaginable. He held her hair while she threw up from chemo, for God’s sake.

Nevertheless, she begins to make herself presentable, starting with a shower. She’s just stepped out and begun blow drying her hair when she hears Mulder’s knock on the connecting door. “It’s open,” She calls and hears it creak open, followed by the unmistakable sound of Mulder brushing his teeth.

He barges into the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his wet hair sticking straight up. “No HBO, just Cinemax.” He says around his toothbrush, some foamy paste dribbling onto his chin.

“You really have to do that in here?” Scully asks, returning to the task at hand.

Mulder spits in the sink in front of her.

“Yep.” He says, then resumes brushing his teeth.

Scully pointedly rinses out the sink, since Mulder neglected to do so. It’s enough to make her reconsider asking him to move in with her. “So I was thinking we could maybe get a quick nap in, then we can go for a hike in the woods. Any luck and we’ll find evidence of whatever’s been attacking those people. Based on the hospital pictures, my money’s on a bear.”

“You know, Scully. I think this is the first time we’ve done this naked.” Mulder indicates their respective towel-clad bodies and waggles his eyebrows.

“Oddly enough, you mistaking bear maulings for Bigfoot doesn’t exactly do it for me.” Scully deadpans and goes back to work on her hair. It’s not nearly as unruly as it was when she kept it longer, but if she lets it air dry, she’ll be needing to borrow Mulder’s jogging hat.

“When did you get a look at those pictures?” Mulder asks, spitting again and rinsing out his mouth before going out to the bedroom and rifling through Scully’s bag for the file.

“Somewhere above Oklahoma. Turbulence was keeping me up. Why?” Scully trades her towel for one of the hotel bathrobes, tying it as she goes to join Mulder.

“Because I think you missed something.” He holds up one of them and points at what was once someone’s foot, found severed in a metal bear trap near one of the reported attacks. “None of the surviving victims are missing a foot and those look an awful lot like human teeth marks, don’t they?” He points at the ankle where there is indeed human-looking gnaw marks.

“Wow, it  _ is  _ another Jersey Devil.” Scully puts on her glasses and takes the picture, getting a better look at it. “I wish I could say otherwise but it’s not like we haven’t encountered cannibals on...more than one occasion.” Scully sits on the edge of the bed, getting her daily dose of  _ this is really your life, Dana  _ out of her system as she looks through the pictures again.

“That’s what I was thinking, too. You still want to take that nap?”

“No. If there’s some kind of  _ Hills Have Eyes  _ thing going on around here, we’re going to get to the bottom of it. Now, I’m going to finish getting ready. If you wouldn’t mind calling, I’d like any and all unsolved missing person’s reports from around here in the last five years.” Scully returns to the bathroom with her makeup bag.

“On it,” Mulder calls after her. “Hey, do you think we can get a bagel or something first, though? A few more hours without eating and you might seem more appetizing than your mother’s meatloaf.”

Sometimes Scully wonders why she and Mulder took so long to realize their feelings for each other. Then there are times like this, and she remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to be...not so easy, starting with the next chapter. I hope you are all enjoying the story. Please let me know in the comments.


	3. Moving In, Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a visit from Diana, Mulder has some hard questions for Scully. Also, there's smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a slightly exaggerated retelling of what all went down in Oregon, please enjoy this video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0u4M6vppCI

“Oh, son of a-” The pain in Mulder’s leg is excruciating as the forest patrol loads him into a medical helicopter, Scully keeping the pressure on his right ankle with his torn off shirt sleeve.

“It’s gonna be okay. We got him. It’s gonna be okay,” Scully murmurs comfortingly, her free hand going to his forehead. It’s a sight different from what just went down in the hunting cabin of Francois “Frankie” Lavelle, former Disney Channel Star-turned cannibalistic mountain man.

“Am I gonna lose my foot?” Mulder asks, feeling feverish and barely able to keep his eyes open. When the bear trap closed on his ankle, his mind had immediately gone to the found severed foot, which he now thought had been gnawed off by someone who didn’t have the benefit of being an armed federal agent with a medical doctor on hand.

“No, Mulder, you aren’t going to lose your foot. I’m worried it might be infected, though.” Scully assures him and turns to the paramedic on board with them, speaking some kind of medical jargon that Mulder can’t even begin to comprehend right now.

“I want a peg leg!” Mulder groans, and that’s the last thing he remembers before he loses consciousness.

* * *

He wakes a few hours later, the tell-tale beeping of hospital monitors greeting him before he opens his eyes. Instinctively, he wiggles his toes on his right foot, which thankfully are still there. He slowly opens his eyes, the hospital fluorescents harsh as he still feels his brain in a foggy haze, which he assumes is from painkillers because he can’t feel any pain.

“I’m sorry to say that you don’t get your peg leg this time,” Scully says up over a months-old Cosmopolitan Magazine, her glasses having slid to the end of her nose. “You have a slight bacterial infection from that rusty bear trap, but thankfully no tetanus. You’re lucky your tibia took the brunt of the force of the trap and not the fibula, so no broken bones, either. Just about fifty stitches around your ankle. Doctors say you’re good to go home to DC tomorrow but they’re willing to discharge you into my care tonight, so long as I promise to keep you off your feet.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard for you.” Mulder grins, earning nothing but a disapproving, deadpan look from Scully. “Are we in Portland?” He asks, moving to sit up in the bed a bit, finding the remote control.

“Yeah. Frankie Lavelle’s been taken into custody for a thorough psychiatric evaluation before he’s arraigned. My tentative conclusion is that he may have gone insane from isolation in the weeks he spent up there preparing for his movie role and in effect  _ became  _ the character he was going to portray. The remains of the hunting cabin’s real owner were found buried in pieces near where you walked into that bear trap.” Scully takes off her glasses and begins cleaning them with her shirt, a nervous habit of hers that Mulder’s picked up on.

“What is it, Scully?” He asks as she wheels her chair closer to the bed and he offers his hand out for her to hold.

“I was too cocky today. I almost, quite literally, walked us into the belly of the beast because something as awful as a cannibalistic mountain man barely fazes me anymore. We didn’t even think to have backup, Mulder.” Scully rubs her eyes, looking exhausted. He hates seeing her beat herself up like this.

“Hey, you and I  _ both _ came into this thinking it would be an open and shut case. Nobody could have rationally thought that a teen idol would have a bloodier version of Home Alone set up outside of his murder cabin. What matters is that we got out of there alive and he’s hopefully never gonna get out of wherever they put him, be it prison or the nuthouse.” He turns to his IV drip. “What do they got me on? It’s good.”

“Hydrocodone and a lot of antibiotics. I’m surprised you aren’t feeling nauseous.” Scully checks Mulder’s temperature with the back of her hand on his forehead. “Your fever’s broken, though.” 

“I ever tell you that you’re really hot when you’re in doctor mode?” Mulder asks, the drugs swimming through his brain making Scully look almost angelic as she leans over him, haloed by the fluorescents.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, actually. When you were brought in here delirious.”

“You’re so pretty.” Mulder knows he’s sounding like a broken record, but it’s really the only thought he can string together as he takes in Scully, still in sap-covered hiking clothes, her lip split from where Frankie had managed to get a shot in before she knocked him unconscious with a fire poker, looking an absolute vision.

“Okay, let’s make sure you aren’t sitting on your pain meds button...” Scully blushes as she reaches under Mulder to see if she can find the tiny remote control that he proceeds to wave in his hand.“Mulder, I- I have something I want to ask you.” Scully gets up from her chair and paces next to the bed, clearly nervous because she’s not making eye contact.

“What is it?” Mulder asks, reaching for her.

“Would you...maybe consider...filing a personal relationship disclosure form with me?” Scully asks, and Mulder has to admit that it’s not even in the ballpark of what he’d been expecting with that kind of build-up. “I just think that if we’re going to keep doing this, we need to keep it by the book. I don’t want either of us ending up in one of those mandatory sexual harassment seminars if I can help it.”

“Uh, sure? So we’re really making this Skinner-official, huh?” Mulder reaches over for a bottle of water left on his bedside table, which Scully hands him.

“It was bound to happen eventually.” 

“I honestly kind of figured you might change your mind about all this before we got that far.” Maybe it’s the painkillers, but Mulder’s feeling especially loose-lipped, and Scully for her part seems rather shocked at this revelation.

“Why would I?” She sounds offended.

“I don’t know… I guess I thought you might just have wanted something more casual. You still haven’t even told your mom about us. She knows, but only because she’s smart and Emily’s an open book, not because you told her.” Mulder thinks to their dinner at Maggie’s house just the night before, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife as Emily told her grandmother all about her time with her new babysitter as Fox and her Mommy were out late together.

“Mulder, listen to me. I honestly have never felt like this with any other man I’ve been with, even if I hate how you encourage Emily’s mischievous side and that your toothpaste etiquette is questionable at best.” Scully leans down and kisses him, and Mulder swears he can hear his heartbeat quicken on the monitor. She pulls away, her gaze drifting up from his lips to his eyes. “I don’t want to hide this from anyone anymore. Starting with the Bureau.”

Mulder licks his lips, tasting his favorite of Scully’s lip balms. “Mmm. Maybe I should have almost gotten my foot lobbed off by an actual cannibal a few years ago. I could have made an honest woman out of you by now.”

“Okay, I’m having them unhook that IV right now.”

* * *

As much as Mulder would have liked to come home to his apartment with Scully in tow, he knows how important it is for her to be with Emily, so he’s actually looking forward to some alone time when he unlocks his door, limping into his dark kitchen to open the fridge and check the milk’s expiration. He wonders if four days really make much of a difference, taking a sip from the carton before deciding that they really do, spitting in the sink. He realizes at this moment that his apartment’s been a bit neglected since he’s been going out with Scully. If not for the dull throb that remains in his ankle, he would be tempted to do a once-over with a duster, but that will have to wait for another day. 

He takes a bottle of beer out of his fridge and walks into the living room, collapsing on his couch and turning on the tv to a basketball game. He looks around for a bottle opener, finding none and settling for the edge of his coffee table, which already sports a few gashes from similar instances, so what’s one more?

“Oh come on, Wizards! You guys suck hard enough to make me miss the Bullets!” He yells at his tv, taking a swig of beer and wishing there was a Knicks game on instead. He’s granted a reprieve when he hears a knock at his door.

He gets up, wondering if Scully maybe brought the kid over to cheer him up in his wounded state. He almost waits for the signature, ‘Mulder, it’s me,’ but that doesn’t come, so he checks the peephole and can’t help but be disappointed.

“Hello, Diana.” He says after opening the door, his former partner standing in the hallway, looking upset about something.

“Mulder. Do you mind if I come in?” She asks, looking over his shoulder like she expects him to have company.

“Not at all,” Mulder steps back from the door, waving her in, though feeling a little awkward about this. He would have to be an idiot to not know that his past relationship with Diana makes Scully uncomfortable.

“I heard you were injured in the line of duty yesterday and I wanted to check on you to make sure you’re feeling better,” Diana says, wringing her hands together like there’s something else. “You seem pretty intact.”

“You ever get caught in a bear trap? Let me tell you, it’s not an experience I want to repeat.” Mulder leans down and lifts his pant leg, showing off the stitches and scars that wrap around his leg like an anklet. “I look like Victor Frankenstein sewed my foot on.”

Diana smiles. “Well, I’m glad you’re at least finding the humor in the situation. I hear Agent Scully had to take down the perp with her bare hands. I don’t know what you two were thinking of going out there without backup-“

“It was my fault. I thought we could handle whoever or whatever was in those woods. Scully didn’t even want to go on the case,” Mulder thinks to Scully’s phone call with Emily right before they went into the woods, reassuring her that she would be back soon. It was the only thing Mulder could think of when Scully was taking down Lavelle.

“Oh, what a surprise…” Diana rolls her eyes.

“I know the two of you don’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things but Scully saved my life out there.”

“ _ And _ she filed a personal relationship form with HR regarding you a few hours ago. When were you going to tell me?” Diana’s thinly veiled jealousy is palpable.

“I’m not sure. Seems like you kind of gave up your right to be in the know about these things when you left all those years ago.” For Mulder to say that he never loved Diana would be a lie. She was the first person he ever really loved. The first person who believed him. But he realizes now just how much she’s changed. How much  _ he’s  _ changed. 

“You know as well as I do that I didn’t want to go, Mulder.” Diana reaches out to take his hand, rubbing the back of it with her thumb. “Now, if this is all just some ploy to make me jealous, then congratulations, you’ve succeeded, but it’s really not fair to me nor to Agent Scully if that’s really the game you’re playing here.”

“You must think pretty highly of yourself, huh?” Mulder scoffs and pulls his hand away. “Whatever there was between us is over. I’m in love with Scully and I don’t want you to take any kind of credit for that. Unlike you, she’s been there for me through everything. And sure, she’s more skeptical than anyone who’s seen what she has should have any right to be, but I would be  _ nothing _ without her. I’d just be crazy, Spooky Mulder down in the basement with his UFO pictures.” He opens the door, nodding toward it. “I really think you should go.”

“Come on, Fox. You can’t stand there and tell me in total honesty that Dana is in any place to give you her all in a relationship.” Diana reaches into her inner jacket pocket and pulls out a folded slip of paper. “I took the liberty of looking into the file we have on her daughter, Emily, and it’s so much more than I think you realize.” She hands the slip to Mulder.

Mulder reaches over to close the door again.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He asks.

“It means that what happened with Emily Scully in San Diego is only the beginning. She’s in no way a normal little girl, which will become all the more apparent with time.” As Diana explains this, Mulder unfolds the paper, finding only an address for a place in Palo Alto, California. “I think Agent Scully is well aware of that fact, as according to Emily’s file, her mother signed off on a procedure performed in December of 1997. After that, the file’s been heavily redacted.”

“December 1997 is when Scully first met Emily. We know that she’s not exactly normal, but she’s not a hybrid either, Diana. She was born, not grown. I’ve seen her fall and scrape her knee; she bleeds like a normal kid. She eats, sleeps, and breathes like a normal kid.” In his few encounters with the tank-grown hybrids, he’s come to find out that they’re everything but human. Emily is a little girl. She’s  _ Scully’s  _ little girl.

“Emily is the next phase of hybrids, not unlike what we saw with Gibson Praise. By most regards, she can pass as physiologically human while taking on traits such as heightened intelligence and potentially as she gets older, mind-reading.”

“And you’re saying Scully is aware of this?”

Mulder shakes his head, not believing—or at least not wanting to believe—that Scully would keep a secret that big from him. “Emily was dying of some kind of alien infection. Whatever Scully signed off on must have been a treatment for whatever was killing her kid.”

“It wasn’t an infection, Mulder. Half of her genes were trying to snuff out anything in her that might be human. By all accounts, there’s no way that little girl should be alive right now. But suddenly it stopped.” Diana sighs, looking almost conflicted to tell him any more. “I also found this.” She hands him another folded piece of paper. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Mulder. But there’s nothing I can do about it now except to say that I’m not going anywhere. I won’t give up on you. But I need you to be cautious about who you trust blindly.” Diana turns toward the door and leaves, the door closing behind her as Mulder unfolds the piece of paper.

* * *

“Mulder, what are you doing here?” Scully answers the door to her apartment looking confused but not unhappy to see him. She holds Queequeg squirming in her arms. “Emily’s asleep.” She steps back from the door to let Mulder in before setting the dog down. “What’s going on?”

“Why did you ask for a transfer to Quantico last year?” Mulder asks without delay, handing her the transfer request form Diana gave him. He knows he could have asked her over the phone and saved himself a bit of pain in his ankle, but he needs her to say this to his face. Besides, the ten minutes or so in the car has at least allowed him to develop a sort of calm.

“How did you even get this?” She asks, decidedly  _ not  _ a denial.

“Diana,” Mulder can see a look of betrayal on Scully’s face, which he imagines matches his own right about now. “Scully, if you and I are going to have a relationship, we need to actually trust each other, and you didn’t even trust me enough to tell me that you wanted out.”

“I  _ didn’t  _ want out, Mulder. I put in that request on an impulse a year ago when I thought I didn’t really have a choice, and I withdrew it a week later when my mom agreed to help watch Emily. What’s concerning to me is that Diana felt that it was something she just  _ had  _ to tell you.” Scully paces the floor, rubbing at her temple.

“She felt that it was pertinent to the fact that you signed off on some kind of experimental surgery on Emily the day before.”

“The one that by all accounts saved her life? Yeah, I signed off on that. What’s your point, Mulder?”

“My point is that I think you know a lot more about what Emily is than you’ve told me.”

“Emily is my child, Mulder. She’s the only child I am ever going to have.” Scully takes a seat on her couch, holding her head in her hands. Whatever this is has been eating at her. She looks up at Mulder. “You want honestly? I wasn’t allowed to know the specific details but I made the choice to sign off on the surgery anyway because they told me it would save her life. The most I can tell you is that it had something to do with putting an implant in her pineal gland.”

“They put something in her brain? Who?” Mulder sits down next to her, trying to wrap his head around all of this.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Transgen, our government…”

“Extraterrestrials?” Mulder offers up.

“Har, har. My point is that I don’t know and I’m not even sure if I want to know. She’s my baby, Mulder. She’s not just some X-file we can investigate and write a report on in a week, never to be spoken of again.” Scully leans back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling before both of them hear a door creak, turning to see Emily peeking her head through her cracked bedroom door. “Sweetheart, what are you doing up?”

“I heard you two fighting. My mama and daddy used to fight ‘cause of me.”

“Come here, kid.” Mulder beckons her to come closer, her too-long pink pajama pants dragging on the floor as she moves to climb up onto his lap. “I promise you, we were not fighting. Your mom and I were just having an adult discussion. Sometimes those can seem pretty heated, especially between the two of us.” He reassures her, hardly believing that this adorable, sleepy little girl could be anything else.

“And even if we  _ were _ fighting, it certainly wouldn’t be because of you.” Scully smooths down Emily’s hair. That’s a bald-faced lie, of course, but there’s no easy way to tell a four-year-old that she’s not fully human and that’s sort of a matter of concern.

“We’d be fighting over whether or not the Capitals ever have a chance of winning the Stanley Cup.” Mulder agrees.

“We would not.” Scully deadpans.

“So you aren’t mad at each other?” Emily asks, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“No, baby. We’re not.” Scully picks Emily up under the arms and brings her into her own lap, kissing the top of her head.

“That’s good.” Emily leans into her, looking like she might fall asleep in her mother’s arms.

“Do you need me to tuck you back into bed?” Scully whispers.

“Can Fox do it?” Emily asks, looking to Mulder hopefully.

“I sure can.” Mulder agrees, picking Emily up and carrying her into her room. He remembers helping Scully set it up over one sleepless night before Emily finally came home from the hospital. Scully had gone a little nuts with a bumblebee theme, having him paint the whole room a pale yellow while she assembled the Jenny Lind twin bed, occasionally cursing at its too-vague instructions.

“Scully, you’re a doctor. Just put rod E into slot F.” He said as he hopped down from his ladder around 3 am, earning a glare.

“I know exactly where I’ll put rod E if you don’t mind your own damn business, Mulder.” That’s when she balled up the instructions and chucked them at his head, and it occurred to him that somehow, despite Scully having never been pregnant, and them not being together, he and Scully were, in all honesty, having a child together, and she was coming home in a matter of hours.

Mulder looks down at Emily in his arms, half asleep, her fingers clinging to his shirt. He’s never exactly hated the idea of being a father, but as the years went on, his life devoted only to his work, it started occurring to him that that life just wasn’t in the cards for him. But now, with this perfectly innocent girl who looks to him like a miniaturized version of the woman he loves, he knows he could never go back to how it was, regardless of if he didn’t contribute to her existence. He lays Emily down in her bed and covers her up, making sure to tuck in the blankets around her as he’s witnessed Scully do several times.

“Mommy says you hurt your leg,” Emily says, freeing her arm from the covers and pointing at his ankle.

“I did.” Mulder nods. “It looks pretty gross.”

“I wanna see!” Emily sits up in bed, excited and suddenly not seeming tired at all.

“You sure?” Mulder asks, earning an enthusiastic nod. “Alright.” He puts his foot up on the edge of the bed and lifts his pant leg to show off the wound.

Emily’s eyes go wide. “Does it hurt?” She asks, leaning in to get a closer look with the same expression of morbid curiosity Mulder’s seen hundreds of times over the last six years or so.

“A little. Not as bad as when it happened.” He puts his foot down when Emily reaches out to poke at the stitches.

“When I fell off the swings at the park, Mommy kissed my hands and made them feel better.” She says matter-of-factly as she settles back into bed.

“Lucky! I hear moms have magic healing powers.” Mulder smiles at the perfect mental image of such a scenario. For all her no-nonsense exterior, he knows Scully’s really just a big softy at heart, especially when it comes to her daughter.

“Mine does.” Emily nods, her eyes struggling to stay open.

“Absolutely.” Mulder agrees, then takes that as his cue to turn out the light. “Goodnight, Emily.”

“‘Night, Fox.” She calls back as he closes the bedroom door behind him and he returns to Scully.

The more Mulder thinks about it, the more he hates himself for coming in hot earlier. He feels like the biggest ass in the world for being so blind to Diana’s ulterior motives for telling him about Emily’s condition, but then, he knows from experience that he tends to be blind to a lot of things that have to do with Diana. Now it’s time to grovel.

“I- I’m sorry, Dana. I never should have jumped to conclusions like that.” Mulder sighs and takes a seat in an armchair, thinking that Scully is the one person in the world he  _ does  _ trust without question and he could have completely blown it with her tonight.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She stands in front of Mulder, urging him to look into her eyes. “You have to understand that you are the last person in the whole world I would ever want to keep these things from. I was a new mom and I was scared and I’m still so fucking confused about what all of this is going to mean for my baby in the long run. But I am not going to leave you to do this alone. Not now, not ever. Not when this job, as dangerous and ridiculous as it can be, seems like the only thing I’ve ever done that has the potential to make Emily proud of me one day. I know it’s rare when you and I are on the same page, but we want the same thing in the end. We want the truth, and I feel like we’ve become increasingly alone in that regard.”

Mulder nods in agreement, though a tiny part of him is almost glad this all happened just so he could hear Scully say those things. It’s always his biggest fear that one day she’ll wake up and realize she’s wasting her life being dragged around the country by him, after all. “And you should know that I didn’t seek out Diana or anything. She came by my apartment after you filed our relationship form with HR.”

Scully sighs deeply, the look in her eye signaling she might not be above punching Diana the next time she sees her. “Mulder, I would just like to take this moment to remind you that you dated that woman.”

“You don’t have to rub it in.” Mulder reaches into his jacket pocket for the Palo Alto address. “Though, if she’s good for something, it might be this.” He hands the slip of paper to Scully.

“What is this?” She asks, confused.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Apparently, whatever’s there is connected to Emily’s condition.” Mulder says as Scully looks the address over. “But that also came from Diana, so take it with a grain of salt.”

“As much as I dislike her, she  _ does  _ have far more access to this stuff than we do. When are we going to Palo Alto?” Scully sits in Mulder’s lap, wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

“I guess that’s up to you. There are tons of cases coming out of California every day, so take your pick and we should have a pretext to be there.” Mulder rubs soothing circles into Scully’s back, knowing this can’t be easy on her. In over a year, they’ve barely even discussed Emily’s health scare, let alone what caused it in the first place. Mulder knows Scully will love her daughter no matter what, but it’s almost easier to be ignorant and that’s probably going to go away if they manage to find whatever it is they’re looking for.

“Noted. Maybe we can wait until after next week. We’ve got a meeting with Skinner on Tuesday regarding how our professional relationship will go forward now.” She rests her head on his shoulder.

“If he tries to separate us again-” Mulder can hardly fathom going back to those days in 1994, him and Scully having to pass each other secret notes like school children.

“He won’t, Mulder. It’s just standard protocol.” Scully reassures him.

He knows she’s probably right, but the fear of losing her is likely to never go away as long as he lives. “Good. And then, of course, Tuesday is also…” Mulder smiles down at Scully broadly.

She shakes her head. “My birthday. You actually remembered?”

“Of course; it’s your big three five. I’ve been practicing my striptease for weeks.” Mulder waggles his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Scully gives him a much-anticipated scoff. “You’re more than welcome to join me, Emily, and my mother at Benihana.”

“Dinner  _ and  _ a show. I’m in. Love that oil and alcohol onion volcano thing.” Mulder rubs his hands together and grins.

Scully sighs. “Mulder, you don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” He asks, genuinely confused.

“Act like you’re some peppy family man who likes this kind of stuff. I know it’s not really your style.” Scully bites her bottom lip, a look of insecurity on her face. 

It’s not like it’s escaped Mulder that she has a bit more going on in her life than she did just over a year ago. She’s got a child, and that changes a person, but Mulder’s not about to run away. If anything, this is the first time in a long time that it’s felt to him like he might have a family. If that means grinning and bearing overly expensive, semi-tacky chain restaurants, then so be it.

“Scully, I love your family- well, I love your mom, and Emily’s my best buddy. Also, have you ever  _ tried _ hibachi steak? Out of this world.” He smiles at her, noting the way she seems to be fixated on his lips before pulling him into a kiss, tender, and yet there’s a definite heat behind it.

“So I know you drove over here to confront me about a nonexistent betrayal, but would you like to stay the night?” She murmurs.

“Just can’t get enough of me, huh?” Mulder smirks as Scully holds him tighter. “It seems like everything goes to hell the minute you and I are apart for too long.” 

Scully begins peppering kisses to his neck, sucking on his pulse point. “Oh good, you’ve noticed.” 

Mulder moans, enjoying the feeling too much to think about whether the inevitable hickey will fall below his shirt collar or not. “Do you want me out of here before the kid wakes up?” He asks, it being a rare occurrence that they do this at Scully’s place with Emily home, what with her being physically incapable of keeping things from her grandmother.

“No,” Scully whispers against his neck and gets up out of his lap, offering him her hand as she leads him into her bedroom, directing him to sit on the bed and straddling him. She pulls her sweater up over her head, discarding it on the floor. 

Mulder can hardly believe Scully’s beauty sometimes, and seeing her like this, the moonlight streaming in through the curtains giving her pale skin a sort of glow as she removes her bra, nonchalantly tossing it back over her shoulder, is almost too much to handle. She reaches down between them to undo Mulder’s belt, yanking it through the straps and tossing it away as well.

“Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” He whispers, his hands going to her waist. It doesn’t matter how many times they do this, he can still hardly believe that this otherworldly goddess is here, offering all of herself to him.

She leans down close to his ear, her breath warm and intoxicating. “Shut up and kiss me.” She pulls him in, hands on either side of his face, holding on for dear life. Her lips are as soft as satin against his, her tongue tentatively entering his mouth, just barely caressing his own. It’s a kiss so gentle that when Scully pulls away, Mulder’s almost taken about by the look of sheer hunger in her eyes before she shoves him onto his back. She brings his hands up to her chest and grinds her hips down into his, a look of smug satisfaction on her face when she feels his rock hard cock through his pants.

“You like what you do to me?” Mulder asks, taking her hand in his own and bringing it down to cup his crotch.

“Absolutely,” She says, licking her lips as she brings his zipper down and deftly undoes the button, massaging his cock through his boxers. Her thumb runs over the head and she smiles, satisfied when she feels the unmistakable slight wet spot forming. “Tell me what you want, Baby.” 

“More- all of you.” He gasps when her hand goes under his waistband, giving his cock a few languid strokes before she gets up off him altogether and he can’t contain his disappointed groan.

“Needy,” Scully tuts as she relieves herself of her jeans and panties and Mulder takes the opportunity to rid himself of his shirt and boxers, feeling completely vulnerable despite Scully being just as naked as he is. She climbs back onto the bed, crawling back on top of him, dragging one of his hands down her body, sighing contentedly when his fingers brush her clit and continue on lower, two of his fingertips ghosting over her entrance. “Feel how wet I am for you?”

If Mulder weren’t a grown man, that alone might have done him in as his cock twitches up at her. He moves his fingers back up, gently rubbing her clit back and forth, earning a series of satisfied moans that she muffles by leaning down and kissing him, allowing him to swallow the sounds of her fast-approaching orgasm. She practically collapses on top of him, her thighs shaking enough that Mulder can’t imagine she has much feeling in them. He withdraws his hand, bringing it to his mouth to suck on his fingers, lapping up the sweet, salty taste of Scully that he could never get enough of for as long as he lives.

For her part, Scully sits back and watches the action hungrily, her eyes dark with arousal, her pupils blown from her orgasm that she’s still trying to regulate her breathing from, but Mulder isn’t about to give her the chance to do that. 

He bucks his hips up into her, his cock briefly brushing against her overstimulated clit. 

Scully takes a sharp breath in, clearly struggling not to cry out.

So, of course, Mulder repeats the action, the look on his face daring her to just ride his cock already as Scully fails to contain a borderline-loud moan. He’s raring to do it yet again when she finally takes his cock in her hand, lining it up at her entrance and sinking down, taking him inch by inch slowly and then all at once with one hand on his chest for leverage and the other covering her own mouth. 

In a  _ completely _ un-cocky sort of way, Mulder is well-aware that he’s blessed with an asset that can be a bit much for any woman--let alone one as small as Scully--to take without a bit of an adjustment period, so he waits patiently for her to establish an almost painfully slow pace before she gradually speeds up. He places his hands on her hips, grinding his own up to meet her pace, then bringing one hand up to ever-so-gently begin massaging her clit once again.

“Fuck, Mulder,” She gasps, her pace becoming a bit uneven as she gets closer to another orgasm.

“Dana,” Mulder groans, beginning to feel the tell-tale pressure building up in his abdomen. He tries to hold off, but it’s feeling like an impossible task with Scully clenching around him, coming seemingly at the exact time he feels like he’s on fire, every nerve ending in his body exploding with his release, followed immediately by a feeling of overwhelming calm.

Scully doesn’t move immediately. Not even so that he can pull out of her. The two of them just stay there in that moment, their breathing heavy, their sweat-covered bodies that just minutes ago were burning hot now starting to feel slightly chilled by a draft in Scully’s old apartment. When Mulder’s gone fully soft, and when it almost feels like his heart isn’t going to pound out of his chest, Scully gets up off of him, walking naked to her bathroom. She emerges a few minutes later, the toilet flushing as she comes out, walking silently to Mulder’s dedicated drawer and getting him a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt. She tosses them at him before putting on her favorite blue pajamas and crawling into bed, snuggling up to him.

“Mulder, I’m going to ask you something and I need you to promise me you won’t go running for the hills when I do.” She says, breaking the silence just as Mulder felt himself beginning to drift off to sleep in his post-orgasm comfort.

“You’re scaring me, but go on.” He murmurs, opening his eyes to see Scully propping her head up on her hand, putting Kate Winslet to shame.

“How many months do you have left on your lease?” She asks, looking up at the ceiling in an obvious ploy to seem nonchalant.

“About four. Why?” Mulder asks.

Scully takes a deep breath. “Would you maybe consider moving in with me and Emily when it runs out?” She asks, turning back to him, her big, blue eyes pleading.

“Wow, that’s…” It’s a lot to take in. Sure, he’s known Scully for going on seven years, but they’ve not even been dating for a whole tax quarter. Which is not to say that he doesn’t see the appeal in living here. Enough bad stuff has happened in his apartment that whatever attachment he may have once had to it is all but gone, and he’s so rarely in it anymore that the rent almost seems like a waste anyway. Plus, he’d get to live with the woman he’s madly in love with, and it’s not like she’s asking him to rent a U-Haul tomorrow. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do it.” He says, nodding.

“Really? Because you hesitated there.” Scully says, skeptical. Nothing gets past her.

“It’s just a lot to take in. I mean, two months ago, you and I were still sleeping in separate hotel rooms.” Mulder takes Scully’s free hand in his own, kissing it. “But I want to, Dana.” A thought occurs to him then. “Is this what you really wanted to ask me back in Oregon yesterday?”

“Yes,” Scully admits, blushing. At least Mulder can say she didn’t just bring this up without putting any thought into it.

Mulder frowns. “So you still ended up asking me, but now we have to have Skinner probing our personal business because of that HR form?”

“I don’t like your phrasing, but unfortunately, yes.”

“Great,” Mulder says, his sarcasm somewhat masked by a yawn as he struggles to keep his eyes even half-open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am trying to make it a habit of responding to every comment, so if any of you have any questions about the fic, or if you just want to tell me what you may have liked in the chapter, please let me know down below. I'm also on Tumblr at addams-beineke.tumblr.com if you ever want to bug me about updating the story (I promise I don't mind).


	4. California Nightmare Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mulder and Scully get a lot more than they bargained for from what was supposed to be an easy case. Also, Scully might be starting to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. I know it's been a while but this chapter's been a real beast to write (as you can see based on the enormous wordcount and the fact that I'm still writing part two) and I've also been in Hawaii, which cleared my head nicely. This chapter (and the next) is definitely a case file, but I hope you guys enjoy some Scully backstory as well. ;)

Dana’s been 35-years-old for a week now, and she’s still waiting for that _“why am I not married in the suburbs with 2.1 kids?!”_ Crisis all of her old college friends talk about whenever they meet up for their annual brunch. If there were ever a bright side to being a barren single mother, maybe this is it. Her lack of biological clock allows her to be the unmarried, driven career woman straight out of a misogynist’s nightmare without the Catholic guilt making her hate herself for it like she used to. Or maybe the exhausting job of being a single mother has lifted the illusion of domestic life being something to aspire to instead of it being just, well, a state of life. Either way, she wants no sympathy for being five years from forty and in a relationship with a man who would be statistically more likely to get her killed by El Chupacabra in a New Mexico desert than propose to her with a princess cut Tiffany ring. Who needs sympathy when she can get a session of _batting practice_ as a slightly belated birthday present, right?

Though she supposes it was better than a keychain.

Scully turns over on her side in the hotel bed, just watching Mulder sleep. He looks so much younger- like he did that first day in the basement. They have to be up in five hours to fly to California for another case (and, of course, to investigate what Scully has found out to be a warehouse in Palo Alto), but sleep just isn’t finding her. She can’t get her mind off the fact that for the first time in years, she thinks she might have a clear idea of what her life will look like for a while. And that will probably all be blown up in a matter of hours. She rolls onto her back again, staring up at the ceiling as her eyes finally struggle to stay open. And then what feels like seconds later, she feels Mulder gently shaking her shoulder.

“Scully. Scully, it’s time to get up. We’re gonna be late.” He whispers and she feels like smacking his hand away. There’s no way it’s already-

“Shit!” Scully says, her eyes opening as she looks over at the hotel’s analog clock, seeing that she’s actually slept an extra ten minutes longer than she was supposed to. Damn Mulder and his love for the god-forsaken snooze button. She throws the covers off herself and runs into the bathroom, throwing her pajamas off in a trail on the way to the shower. When she re-emerges from behind the curtain, Mulder’s in front of the mirror doing a four-in-hand knot with one of his paisley ties.

“You can’t do that in your own bathroom?” Scully asks, taking a towel from the rack and drying herself off. After their meeting with Skinner last week, they’d both been a little glad, for this very reason, to learn the Bureau would continue to require them to keep up the pretense that they would sleep in separate rooms on assignments.

“That one doesn’t have a view.” He says, looking at her naked form via the mirror.

“Well, I’m going to need to get my face on, so do you mind?” She pushes past him to get dressed in the main room, picking up her discarded pajamas as she goes, and returning to the bathroom a moment later with her shirt open and her pantyhose slung over her shoulder.

“My shaver died and I forgot the charger,” Mulder says, looking down at the rotary electric razor in his hand like it’s betrayed him.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to sport some stubble until we can buy you some disposables.” Scully moves past him to get to her deodorant, applying it under her arms and finally buttoning up her shirt, which she tucks into her skirt.

“Do you like the five o’clock look?” Mulder asks, wrapping his hands around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling up to her.

“It makes your face scratchy,” Scully says, grimacing playfully as Mulder plants several wet kisses to her cheek, his stubble indeed scratching against her face.

“You love it.” He smiles, taking a deep breath in through his nose. “And you smell nice.”

“Glad you think so.” She attempts to disentangle herself from his arms. “But we have to be on the road in fifteen minutes. So if you don’t mind…”

Mulder pouts but lets her go. “Why do you always have to be so sensible?”

“Because one of us has to make sure we don’t miss our flights.” Scully steps into her pantyhose like a slightly awkward pro while Mulder just watches her, her cheeks going red as she begins to feel self-conscious. “What? What is it?”

Mulder shrugs. “You’re really cute, you know that?” He steps forward and kisses her gently, his mouth minty from being freshly brushed. “I can’t wait to do this dance every morning.” He moves past her into the bedroom, pulling his jacket on from the bed.

She knows they aren’t officially moving in together until his lease is up, but Scully’s found that they’ve been spending far more nights together than apart ever since their conversation about it. The first initial morning of Emily waking up to find Mulder making her scrambled eggs and cheese on toast had gone a lot more smoothly than Scully expected it to. She’s known for some time that Mulder is easily Emily’s favorite person in the whole world (not that she can really blame her), but she’d been nervous about the kind of questions Mulder staying over might prompt.

“Fox, did Mommy let you sleep in her room?” Emily asked, to Scully’s utter embarrassment as she almost choked on her coffee.

“Uh…” Mulder looked to Scully as if silently asking her if he should lie, but she shook her head. If they were going to have this conversation, they were going to have it. “Yeah, she did.”

“She only lets me do that when I have bad dreams. Did you have a bad dream?” Emily didn’t break eye contact with him as she sipped her orange juice from her Hello Kitty! Cup. It was the kind of look that occasionally makes Scully think that her daughter may have a fallback with the FBI if being a future brilliant and groundbreaking rocket scientist doesn’t pan out.

“Not really, Kid,” Mulder said, shaking his head, to Emily’s confusion.

Scully sighed, thinking it was way too early in the morning to have to explain to her four-year-old the intricacies of dating while somehow also avoiding talking about extramarital sex. Or sex at all, for that matter. “Sweetheart, you know how Mulder and I have been together for a little while now?” She waits for Emily to nod happily before she continues. “Well, when grownups are together, they usually like to sleep in the same bed because…” She honestly couldn’t think of anything G-rated to say beyond that.

“Because we just like each other so much that we want to be close even when we sleep.” Mulder jumps in, taking a seat at the table between the two of them.

“Exactly!” Scully knew she was dating him for a reason.

Emily shrugged nonchalantly, seeming almost confused at why they both seemed so nervous to be talking about this. “Okay.” She went back to eating her breakfast while Scully breathed a silent sigh of relief. “So can Fox sleep over all the time?”

“If I play my cards right in the next few months, and if your mom will let me bring my fish.” Mulder smiled knowingly at Scully, and it was the first time she truly believed him when he said that he hesitated to accept her offer for practical reasons only.

Watching him as he goes around their hotel room checking every corner and crevice for any forgotten socks or underwear, Scully can’t help but smile. For all that’s changed between them in such a short period of time, in reality, nothing has. He’s still her Mulder- well, her and Emily’s Mulder. For all his obnoxious and occasionally disgusting quirks, it’s worth it, in the end, to wake up every morning knowing that.

“You’re pretty cute, yourself.” She says, returning to the bathroom to finish putting on her makeup.

* * *

For Scully, there’s always a feeling of homecoming every time they have to come to California, but driving through San Jose to Palo Alto takes her right back to her Stanford days. The sun warming her skin through the car windows as the A/C blasts her legs is a far cry from the backseat of a cab, her father riding next to her to drop her off at school, clearly fighting back tears but trying to seem tough. It wasn’t the first time one of his children had gone off to college—hell, it wasn’t the first time _Dana_ had gone off to college, and yet this time was different. She wouldn’t be able to come home every weekend to do laundry and have dinner. She wouldn’t even be able to _call_ without wracking up ungodly long-distance charges.

Scully remembers that when Bill Jr. left for the Naval Academy, her father sent him off with a pat on the back and a piece of advice about not getting any girls pregnant out of wedlock. Melissa went off to Sarah Lawrence with a couple of her friends early one morning, and Scully recalls their mother not being able to stop crying when she hugged her goodbye while their father tried to maintain a stoic facade. So when Scully went to Stanford, she was surprised when her father offered to fly there with her.

“You sure you’re ready for this, Starbuck?” He asked as he offered a comforting hand out to her. They both knew her dorm building was coming up in the next few blocks and the butterflies were doing figure eights in her stomach.

“I’ll be fine, Ahab. I have my dining card—thank you for that, by the way—my pepper spray, my Swiss Army knife, my sewing kit…” Scully listed off her absolute essentials as her father sighed.

“Dana, you know that’s not what I meant.” He said as their taxi pulled up in front of the dorm. He tipped the driver and got out to help Scully unload her bags from the trunk. “I won’t be able to be much help from 3000 miles away if something happens to you.”

“I know that, but I’m 22. And besides, soon I’m going to be so up to my neck in homework that I doubt I’ll have time to get into any trouble. But I promise I’ll call you and Mom all the time. Collect.” She laughed, yet her father’s face stayed firm. “I’m gonna miss you, Dad but I _have_ to do this. For me.”

He nodded. “I’m so proud of you, Dana. I know one day you’re going to make this crazy world we live in a better place.” He pulled her in for a tight hug, kissing her on the top of her head and she remembers how he smelled exactly the same as he had since she was a kid. Stetson cologne and home.

“I can dream.” Scully laughed so she wouldn’t cry as he finally let her go. Too late. “And you won’t hate me if I flunk out of this place?” She asked, wiping at the corner of her eye with her sweater sleeve.

He smiled. “No, but with how much your tuition’s costing, I really hope that you don’t.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Just keep your nose in the books. I don’t want any of these California surfer boys taking your eyes off the prize, alright? You remember that kid...what was his name, Marco? Real winner, that one.” He rolled his eyes at just about the same time Scully did at the mention of her high school boyfriend.

“Marcus, and yes, I know. You have my word, Ahab. No surfer boyfriends.” She saluted him at that. It was a promise she would actually keep, even if what she would go on to do as an alternative was far worse.

“That’s my girl. I want you to find yourself someone with a good head on his shoulders, but there’s no rush.” He finally gave her the obligatory pat on the shoulder.

“I promise that when the right one comes along, he’ll be able to pass any test you throw at him. He’s got a lot to live up to, after all.” She remembers how her father’s face lit up at that in particular. The memory almost has her in tears in the present day so she focuses back on her surroundings. Stanford isn’t technically in Palo Alto but they’re close enough that many of the streets Mulder drives through spark a little something here and there. Some of her old haunts are gone now, replaced by some new restaurant or laundromat, but others look exactly the same, just crawling with a new generation of ivy leaguers.

“Where were your favorite places to hang out?” Mulder asks, taking in the sights as much as he can while driving.

“When I wasn’t studying?” Scully asks, knowing Mulder thinks that she’s always been the kind of square person she‘d grown into by the time he met her. “Well, there was a bar that would do these weekly trivia challenges-“

“Sounds very you.” Mulder nods, unsurprised.

“-And they involved everyone doing five shots of tequila beforehand,” Scully adds, to Mulder’s shock. “I won it five times.”

“Impressive. When I was at Oxford, the only thing I could do after a few drinks was throw up in my dorm trash can.” Mulder winces at the thought.

“Oh, believe me; there was plenty of that, too.” Scully can’t stop herself from thinking of the time when she threw up in her own backpack one drunken night and didn’t realize it until she was in class the next day. But Mulder doesn’t need to know about that.

“Was Party Girl Dana a hit with the Stanford eggheads?” Mulder asks, failing to contain a dismissive chuckle at the idea that she, Dana Katherine Scully, could have ever been a normal college kid

Scully thinks about how the same night she threw up in her backpack, Daniel drove her home. It was the first time she’d seen him outside of class and she thought he looked really handsome in street clothes. “Not really.” She lies with a shrug. It’s been so long since that part of her life that she’d sooner forget about it all. That was the goal when she left, anyway. So maybe it’s not so bad that Mulder assumes she’s never had a life.

Mulder looks at her like he doesn’t believe her at all (nothing ever gets past him, does it?) but he lets it go. “So, I’ve heard that the taco trucks around here have some of the best food in the country.”

“Absolutely true. _But_ they’re a quick way to put on the freshman fifteen.” Scully points ahead to their hotel and Mulder pulls into the parking lot. “Let’s just get checked in and head out to that warehouse, okay?” He knows that she’s been on edge about this for days and she’s not about to build the anticipation any further. Whatever they find there- well, she’ll just have to deal with it.

The rooms are standard for a Marriott, and Scully enjoys the familiarity. The major downside to working more in small towns than cities is the decrepit motels that make these standardized chain ones seem luxurious in comparison. She puts her suitcase down on the bed and begins unpacking her dry cleaning bags into the closet. She only has two more clean work outfits left, so she hopes the case they’re investigating regarding missing coma patients can be resolved quickly or else she’ll have to send some things out. Not to mention that she only managed to stick around at home for the first two days of Emily starting her new class, and she knows the nightly phone calls between them are in no way the equivalent of her actually being there. She makes a mental note to put her foot down against any double-header cases like this in the future.

“So did you get any more information about that warehouse?” Mulder asks as he comes through the connecting door, wiping any remaining airport-bought shaving cream from his face with a hand towel.

“Just that the lease is under the name of one Jacob J. Halliday. He worked as a researcher in biotechnology at Stanford up until about eighteen months ago. An old friend of mine works in that department, so we might be able to get some information about him from her, depending on what we find.” Scully moves to the mirror to finger tease her hair back into looking presentable from the plane. “So we’re both on the same page that we’re most likely going to be breaking into this warehouse illegally, yes?”

“If this has to do with what I think it does, most definitely. They get any sense that we’re snooping around and they’ll have destroyed or hidden any evidence before we can even say ‘search warrant.’ But what else is new? You sure you don’t want me to go it alone?” Mulder steps up in front of her, his hands going to her hips and pulling her close. “I don’t care what happens to me, but you’ve got Emily to think about, now.”

“She’s _my_ baby, Mulder.” Scully pulls away, lifting her blazer to show off her gun in its holster on her hip. “I’m going in there whether you like it or not.”

“I’m not about to stop you,” Mulder says, hands raised in surrender.

“Good.” Scully nods. “Then let’s go.”

The drive is relatively silent, with Mulder once again taking the wheel as Scully reviews everything she has on Halliday.

“This biotech guy, do you know what he was specifically researching at Stanford?” Mulder asks, pulling the car up in front of the warehouse. There are two people in lab coats that come out the side door, signing for a package from an unmarked delivery truck and taking it back into the building.

“Implants for deep brain stimulation,” Scully’s hand unconsciously goes to the back of her neck. “So I feel like this is the right place.” She unbuckles her seatbelt and moves to get out of the car.

“Wait,” Mulder puts his hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we should stay and observe. With any luck, they’ll all clock out eventually and we can get in there without being seen.” He’s right, and Scully knows he’s right. Having personal stakes always makes her more reckless than she’d care to admit.

Scully sits back in her seat, wishing they’d thought to get coffee before this, thinking they could be waiting here for hours. She watches as a few more people come and go from the warehouse, all of whom in professional or lab attire. Suspicious for what is otherwise a shipping and packing district, but nothing overtly shady yet.

“So, have you spoken to your mother recently?” She asks, figuring that small talk alone won’t get them through these next few hours, but it can help.

“Not really, no. She uh, she’s been traveling a lot.” Mulder pretends to be staring intently at the building, but Scully can see clear as day that the subject bothers him. It bothers her too if she’s honest. After everything her son’s been through while she’s sat idly by, Teena Mulder isn’t exactly one of Scully’s favorite people in the world.

She changes the subject. “I spoke to Emily on the phone when you were getting the rental car. She already has _three_ first grade friends.” Scully figures Mulder will be as thrilled with this news as she is.

“Really? Popular just like her mom, I guess.” He smiles, his hand going to Scully’s knee. Both of them had been rather skeptical of whether or not Emily was being thrown to the wolves in this move, but Mulder had had optimistic confidence that Scully didn’t.

“Well, she mentioned something about helping them with math problems, so that might have something to do with it...” That particular detail gave Scully pause on the phone, but she supposes that it’s better than Emily having no one to talk to at all. There are worse things to be than the smart kid the others copy off.

“That’s my girl. I told her to use her assets to her advantage.” He smiles proudly and Scully wonders if he had even thought about it before calling Emily his girl- she may as well be, at least.

They sit in silence again, the movements from the warehouse slowing down as it approaches five o’clock, then slowing down completely, save for a carpet cleaning truck pulling up along the side door before a well-dressed man exits the building and leaves in a Porsche. Scully thinks to snap a few pictures of him and his license plate with her camera.

“Bet you five bucks that was Halliday,” Mulder says, getting out of the car.

Scully follows suit, stretching her muscles before they make their way toward the warehouse side door being kept ajar by the cleaning equipment connected to the truck. She takes the lead, peeking in through the door and seeing one man clean the carpet with his back turned, a pair of headphones over his ears. She slips inside, hurrying through into the next room, Mulder hot on her heels as they just barely make it without being noticed.

The next room is an endless wall of file cabinets, which is perhaps one of the luckiest outcomes they could have gotten.

“S for Scully?” Mulder asks, probably wondering if Emily’s name change wouldn’t be reflected in her file before he goes along reading the alphabetical labels and finds S.

“Sim if we can’t find it otherwise,” Scully says, hoping for that to actually be the case, as it would imply that Halliday’s company hasn’t been keeping tabs on her within the last six months. She slides the drawer open and skims through the folders until there it is: _Scully, Emily C_. She removes the file, tucking it under her arm.

“We got what we came for. We should go.” Mulder says, to which Scully nods. They head back to the door they came in through, only to see the carpet cleaning boy begin backing in with his equipment, his music playing loud enough that Scully can faintly hear “...Baby One More Time” blaring through his headphones.

“Not getting out there.” Scully sighs and points in the opposite direction, taking Mulder’s hand and booking it through the next door.

“He can’t be doing a very thorough job,” Mulder says, slightly out of breath, as he locks the door behind them. “Guess we’ll just have to find another way out of here,” He and Scully look around, finding themselves in the center of the building where hundreds of boxes are stacked up to the ceiling. Machinery lines the walls, resembling an assembly line.

“What the hell are they making here?” Scully asks aloud, though she isn’t really expecting an answer. All she can think is that this is a kind of mass production one generally doesn’t see when it comes to the manufacture of experimental brain implants. They walk to the far side of the room, going through another door into what seems more like a military hospital room. Five comatose patients lay in bed hooked up to life support machines.

“Scully, are these-?” Mulder asks, his mind clearly going to the same place hers initially did: that by some crazy happenstance, these are the very same missing coma patients that they’d come to Palo Alto to investigate. It _is_ a small city.

Scully steps closer, noting the standard ventilators and feeding tubes necessary for those with the diagnosis all of the missing patients had been given: brain death. Except, upon further investigation, none of these patients are the ones in their report, and all of them are hooked up to EEG monitors, which show clear brain activity. In fact, they show much higher brain activity than Scully would expect to see in a patient in a coma.

“Mulder, what are the odds that there would be two separate sets of five missing coma patients, three male, two female, in Palo Alto?” She asks, getting her camera out and taking pictures of each person before snapping on a pair of latex gloves and collecting hair samples into the specimen bags she’d thankfully had the good sense to bring in her jacket pocket. She notes the way that the patients, despite their apparently high brain activity, have no response to stimuli.

“Slim to none,” Mulder says, walking over to a medicine cabinet and counter, picking up and opening another file someone had left there.“What the hell is Project Soul?” He asks as he hands the file to Scully, who trades him Emily’s.

“According to this, Project Soul involves two subjects, both equipped with a brain implant that can connect to the other via a kind of radio frequency, effectively allowing the two subjects to switch control of their bodies.” Scully frowns at what she’s reading. “Wow, I just got a weird sense of deja vu…” This seems completely farfetched and yet oddly familiar, especially when she notices in the file something about a secondary lab in Nevada.

“Scully, I know this might sound crazy, but theoretically, if someone were to have put those chips into our missing persons, would other people be able to walk around in those bodies that were previously comatose?” Mulder pulls back the sheet covering one of the male patients up to his neck, revealing him to be a quadruple amputee.

“Well, if this is to be believed, yes, in theory. Our brains send receptors to our bodies that allow us to move and think and breathe. But in the case of a coma patient who has suffered enough brain damage to have no activity whatsoever, it’s impossible to imagine them being able to do much of anything, let alone have the capacity to essentially switch brains with someone else.” Scully notes the aged scars where the man’s limbs must have been before some kind of accident.

“But you said that this is done remotely. What if a perfectly healthy brain is transmitting the necessary signals to the brain of a coma patient whose body is otherwise fine?” Mulder indicates the man’s EEG machine as if to emphasize the point he’s obviously trying to make.

“I suppose it would be possible since according to this, the ultimate goal is to transfer any and all brain activity, but that would in effect render the body containing the functioning brain in a coma-like state.”

“Like these?” Mulder gestures to the patients, the amputee especially. “Scully, what do you think are the odds that _all_ of these people have been in accidents that have rendered them without the full use of their bodies?”

Scully sighs, having to take a seat in the desk chair in front of the computer. This is almost too much, but as has been the case many times, Mulder’s outlandish theory appears to hold some water, so she’s willing to entertain it. “Probably high. I’d assume one would have to be fairly desperate to be willing to take part in an experimental and highly illegal procedure like this. In a way, it’s almost kidnapping.”

“Almost?”

“You know my faith, Mulder. I believe in the sanctity of human life. But without brain activity, those people are not alive. They’re shells with a pulse, and even that wouldn’t be possible without extreme intervention.” Scully thinks about her own will’s guidelines written for this very reason—well, not this _exact_ reason.

“And now Halliday is using their bodies as meat puppets.” Mulder looks disgusted, and rightfully so.

As a doctor, Scully can hardly fathom the ethics violations that are inherent in this project. No matter her opinion on the true status of the missing coma patients, they don’t deserve to be defiled in this way. She uses her camera to quickly take pictures of the important parts of the file and then puts it back where Mulder found it. “We need to get out of here. Now.” She leads the way back out of the room, thinking that she maybe saw a back door in the manufacturing area. But just as the infirmary door clicks shut behind them, an alarm starts blaring throughout the building.

“Shit!” Mulder says, grabbing Scully by the wrist and pulling her toward the back door just as the records room door they’d locked before is kicked open by a hulking bald man who could give “Stone Cold” Steve Austin a run for his money.

“Stop right there!” The guard yells, pointing and charging at them.

Mulder lets go of Scully, having her run ahead. She hears a dominoing crash behind her as Mulder knocks over a stack of shipping boxes on their would-be pursuer.

“Come on!” Scully calls to him, seeing the guard get up from under the pile as Mulder finally reaches her, putting a hand on the small of her back as he follows her out the door into the dark alley, rain now pouring down on them.

Mulder points down the alley. “Let’s get to the car.”

Scully nods, her hand hovering over her gun holster as she stays close to the building’s wall, leading the way around to the street as quickly and quietly as she can. She peeks her head around the corner, seeing it free and clear to run to the car before darting out, this time making sure Mulder’s right behind her by grabbing his hand, pulling him along, only letting go when they get to their black rental car.

“What are we gonna do?” Scully asks, buckling her seatbelt while Mulder starts up the car and tears out of there.

“With what they’re doing in there, I doubt they’ll be calling the cops. But I think we should lay low a while. You never know the kind of goons Halliday might send after us.” Mulder drives through the back streets to their hotel. “And you’ll need time to look over Emily’s file.”

Scully nods, looking down at the manila folder in her hand. It’s so strange to think that in her hands, she possibly holds the answers to so many of the questions that have been haunting her for over a year.

Mulder drops her off in front of the hotel and goes off in search of takeout as Scully takes the file up to their hotel rooms. She hadn’t even realized it’s been almost 24 hours since she’d eaten anything other than airplane trail mix until Mulder said something about hunting down a food truck.

She kicks her shoes off, then takes a deep breath before diving into Emily’s file.

To her disappointment, it doesn’t actually contain much that she didn’t already know. Born via surrogate using a “donated” (quotations added by Scully) ovum, Emily C. Scully (formerly Sim) was in January of 1997 dying of a “rapidly spreading unknown, possibly cancerous infection,” until it was treated with the consent of her biological mother and court-appointed legal guardian, Dr. Dana K. Scully, using an experimental implant to the source of the infection near the pineal gland.

Scully sighs and rubs her eyes under her reading glasses, feeling really tired of constantly being in the dark about things that directly affect her and her family. That is until she flips the page. Right there is a diagram of exactly what was put into Emily’s head, and it certainly is _not_ anything like what she knows she has in her own neck. Without even having to think about it, she reaches for her cell phone and dials up an old friend, clearing her throat as she listens to it ring a few times.

“Tania? Hi, it’s Dana Scully- Yeah, I know. Listen, I’m in Palo Alto on a case right now and I was wondering if maybe I could swing by and have you take a look at something for me? 9 would be great. Thanks, girly. See you then.” She’s hanging up the phone and patting herself on the back for managing to sound impartial when the electronic lock clicks and Mulder comes strolling in, the smell of Mexican food wafting up out of the paper bag in his hand.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got us a variety of street tacos.” He lays out the food on the hotel desk and comes over to peek over Scully at the file. “You find anything?” He asks, resting his head on her shoulder as his arms wrap around her waist comfortingly.

“It looks to me to be similar to a shunt, like what’s used to treat hydrocephalus. Except that with a typical shunt, it has a valve that activates when there’s a buildup of cerebrospinal fluid and it drains the excess through tubes into the abdomen. With this,” Scully gestures to the familiar tubing that also seems to be attached to an electronic implant, “It’s almost like it’s taking its cues from the implant on the pineal gland. Which, as you’ll recall, was the location of that green tumor Emily had.”

“So you’re saying that this thing is possibly directing that...stuff down into her body at regular intervals instead of it doing its thing naturally and building up, which was killing her?” Mulder asks, which is indeed the basic gist of it.

“Yes, I think. Though what that means for her is...” Scully pulls away from Mulder, needing to sit down. It means that whatever was happening to Emily was in no way stopped, it was just stabilized, Scully has suspected as much for some time, but having it confirmed still feels like a punch to the gut. Especially now that life with Emily and Mulder has become her new normal. Her beautiful mundane.

“Mulder, I know she seems mostly normal but I did an IQ test on her last month and she’s off the charts intelligent. We’re talking Einstein numbers and she’s only four. And sometimes...sometimes I swear she looks at me and knows exactly what I’m thinking.” She knows some of this is just paranoia—she’d been absolutely thrilled about Emily’s test results when she took them, already dreaming of a full ride scholarship to MIT or CalTech where Emily would be the girl all the other proud parents only wished was their daughter. But all of it seems ruined now, no matter how wrong it may be to think such a thing.

Mulder sits on the edge of the bed next to her, his furrowed brow betraying his false optimism. “She’s a bright kid, it could just be-”

“Don’t you dare tell me that it could just be nothing. You and I know damn well that she’s not like other kids, Mulder. And that scares me.” Scully lies back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “What kind of mother does that make me if I’m scared of my own child?”

“A perfectly normal one?” Mulder suggests.

“I’ve caught myself wondering if I’m really cut out for any of this. Maybe this whole thing is the universe telling me that I was never meant to have children, but I pushed it, so now in some kind of Monkey’s Paw twist, I have one who might someday fall off her bike and scrape her knee and her blood will be green, and-” Scully’s hand covers her mouth. She can hardly believe she’s finally said out loud what’s been eating at her for well over a year now. Since Emily presented her first tumor.

Mulder lies down next to her on his side. “Whatever happens, you and I are going to deal with it together, just like we always do.” He places his hand over hers on the bed.

“But what if they try to take her away, or, god forbid, kill her over this, Mulder? The fact that we were even able to find that warehouse is proof that our government knows damn well what’s been done to her. What she is…” Scully feels a welling of tears in her eyes, a testament to her anger. After all she’s been through, why does her one miracle, her little girl, have to have strings attached? Why can’t she ever have one good thing in her life that isn’t destroyed or tainted? A solo pity party never helped anyone, but sometimes they're necessary.

Mulder pulls her in close and she breathes in the mixed scent of Old Spice and Irish Spring and home. “Then we’ll run away. Just the three of us. We’ll find a little house in the middle of nowhere and not have to worry about any of this crap anymore. You could be some small town’s much-needed doctor and I could be a homemaker.”

Scully scoffs at that last part. “You wouldn’t mind me being the breadwinner?” She asks, her voice muffled by speaking into Mulder’s chest.

“Of course not. You can take care of the money and I’ll clean, chop wood, and attempt to homeschool Emily until she knows way more than me in a few years.”

“What, you won’t cook?” Scully asks, looking up at him and raising an eyebrow. This is all a pipe dream, but it just feels so good to hear him talk about them as if even in the worst case scenario, he’ll still want to have a life with her.

“You’re a lot better at it.” Mulder concedes.

“Fair point,” Scully mumbles, feeling her stomach grumble but not wanting to leave this moment to go get her dinner just yet.

* * *

It’s an irrational fear, but a part of Scully worries that by chance, she and Mulder are going to run into Daniel Waterston as they make their way to the biotechnics wing of Stanford Medical School. When they pass by the stressed-looking young adults that litter the hallways, Scully can hardly believe that that was her a decade ago. She can only hope that the new batch of young ladies might have more sense to not sleep with their married professors, though.

“Does this all bring back memories?” Mulder asks as they go down a stairwell into the building’s basement.

“A few,” Scully nods and notices light streaming out of a cracked door down the hall. “I think that’s Tania’s lab there,” She says, walking down the dimly-lit hallway to open the door.

Though her back is turned, Scully recognizes her old friend instantly. Tall, with her long black hair pulled haphazardly back into a ponytail, a pair of green jeans coming out from under her lab coat. Definitely Dr. Tania Herrera.

“Be right with you!” She calls when the door closes behind Mulder with a click. Scully steps a little closer and notices she’s soldering a motherboard of some kind.

“Getting any closer to making The Six Million Dollar Man _?”_   Scully asks an old inside joke she knows Tania remembers as she’s quickly putting down the soldering gun.

“We have the technology, just not the funding,” She finally turns around, making Scully feel instantly self-conscious because she’s hardly aged a day in almost a decade. “Dana, if you don’t give me a hug right now, I’m gonna whoop your skinny ass just like that time you stole my last ramen packet.” Tania pulls Scully into one of her notorious bear hugs, squeezing tight.

“Can’t breathe, but thank you for calling me skinny.” Scully chokes out exaggeratedly and Tania lets her go.

“It’s been way too long. I heard from Jen Polaski that you had a kid- is that true? With these hips?” Never a proponent of personal space, Tania accentuates this by putting her hands on either side of Scully’s hips, pulling her in closer. It’s meant in good fun but Scully has to remind herself to not feel self-conscious about having not carried her own child. Something that she’s learned in the past year to be far easier said than done.

“Yes...sort of.” She says, nodding. “I have a four-year-old daughter.” Even if she’s sure Tania knows what gestational surrogacy is, that always brings up a conversation about why she would _choose_ single motherhood, which she both did and didn’t, so she just lets Tania think what she wants.

“Damn! You know that makes me the last one from our old group that hasn’t settled down, right?” It’s the least surprising thing Tania’s said so far, but this is the moment when she finally lays eyes on Mulder. “Speaking of, who’s Mr, Mysterious and Handsome?” She mouths the next part. “Baby’s daddy?”

“Oh, uh, Tania, this is my partner at the FBI, Fox Mulder. Mulder, this is Dr. Tania Herrera.” Scully introduces them as they shake hands, avoiding dropping the work partner boyfriend bomb just yet. That’s really one that’s best said over margaritas.

“‘Fox,’ that’s fun. I’m Dana’s old roommate, but apparently, she only visits when I’m of use to her now.” Tania says pointedly and returns to her work. A part of Scully feels guilty for her lack of contact with the person who at one point was her best friend in the world, but her med-school life’s been locked away--and for good reason--in her mind. The Dana that slept with her married professor and drank to excess on more occasions than she’d care to admit is not the Dana who feels guilty for days on end every time she gives in and smokes the occasional stress cigarette.

“So if not human bionics, what _are_ you working on?” Mulder asks, nodding to the motherboard.

“A computerized diagnostic blood tester. With any luck, this thing will make certain lengthy lab work a thing of the past.” At that, something on the motherboard gives off an electrical crackle, which Tania only seems slightly alarmed by.

“That’s...ambitious,” Mulder says, side-eyeing the smoking components before his eyes drift to the nearest smoke alarm.

“You’re damn right it’s ambitious. I’ve already got a prototype that in five minutes could tell you with about 99% accuracy if you’re pregnant.” Tania brags.

“I can tell you in one second with 100% certainty that I’m not.” Mulder deadpans.

“You, sure. But us women can be blindsided by that shit, and pee tests aren’t 100% accurate. Dana, remember that time you and I delivered Connie Huong’s baby in the dorm common room because she’d gotten like three negative pee tests?” Tania reaches over to grab a fire extinguisher. She gestures for Mulder and Scully to move out of the way before she blasts the motherboard. “Dios mío.” She says, looking in horrified awe at the melted, foam-covered remains of what was likely days if not weeks of work.

“Yes, but Connie Huong also gained about 25 pounds and hadn’t had her period in eight months.” Scully reminds her as Tania moves to dispose of her toasted work.

“And yet, she had no idea she was pregnant until she had two med students delivering her baby with nothing but a sewing kit, some bath towels, and a chip clip.”

It amazes Scully how something that was entirely unfunny when it happened is now something she’s comfortable joking about. She had been half-buzzed on wine coolers when a business major burst into her room and announced that there was a baby being born _right now_ and that she and Tania had to do something quick. She hadn’t even had time to properly sterilize her sewing scissors on her contraband hotplate, opting instead for a splash of Jack Daniels offered by one of the ten or so curious observers of the birth. She’d passed her gynecology course with flying colors, but that wasn’t nearly enough to mentally prepare her for delivering a baby on the floor next to a foosball table.i

“Man, Med School Scully just gets better and better the more I hear about her,” Mulder says, earning himself an elbow to the ribs.

Tania grins like the Cheshire Cat. “Buddy, do I have some stories for you. This one time after midterms, Dana bought some really gnar whipped cream vodka that the two of us got absolutely plastered on and we-

“-Oh, he doesn’t want to hear that.” Scully interrupts quickly.

“If that sentence ended with, ‘made out’ then yes, I really do.”

Another elbow jab.

“Warm,” Tania smirks.

“Oh my,” Mulder feigns being scandalized, but Scully knows he’s loving this.

“So, does the FBI approve of romantic relationships between partners or is Dana still a rebel?” Tania asks nonchalantly while she removes her lab coat and leads the two of them into her office to the side of the lab, gesturing to the two chairs opposite her own.

“As of last week, we’re officially on the book,” Mulder says, a bragging tone to his voice. It’s as flattering as it is annoying that he’s so willing to let that information slip so easily anymore.

“Honest. I like that. Maybe you’re good enough for my Dana after all.” Tania smiles and pours out cups of water from a cooler to the side of her desk, handing them to Mulder and Scully and taking a seat herself.

“Tania, the reason we came by is I actually have some questions about one of your old coworkers here.” Scully cuts to the chase, reaching into her briefcase to get the copies of the Project Soul file, leaving Emily’s for later.

“Shoot.”

“What can you tell us about Jacob Halliday?” Mulder asks.

“Jake was brilliant, but the Hippocratic Oath was just words to him.” Tania picks up a coffee mug from her desk and holds it in her hands a moment. “Bastard’s practically made me a pariah in the community just for having worked with him.”

“So you’re saying he ignored ethics?” Mulder asks, reaching into his pocket for his notepad.

“That’s an understatement. He’s really big on the concept of the needs of the many. He got fired for attempting to go through with human testing on something we were working on called Project Soul.” She sips her coffee with the fervor of a researcher that hasn’t slept a whole night in years.

“The mind swap chip?” Scully asks.

“So you’ve heard of it.” Tania nods. “It was my belief that only with written consent would those in a vegetative state be used as body donors. But Jake was so convinced that we needed a real trial before we could ever hope to get that kind of consent from families. I’ve been watching the news. I’m assuming that’s why you’re here.”

“So why not test it on people that are awake first?” Mulder asks.

“Because when there’s a duel transfer of consciousness, there are...side effects.” Just the mention of this seems to bother Tania almost as much as the mention of her coworker himself.

“What kind of side effects?”

“There’s a phenomenon that I’ve dubbed The Carryover Effect, which means that even though the brain activity is successfully transferred, both parties occasionally experience thoughts and memories from the brain of the other.”

“That’s...horrifying,” Scully says.

“No kidding. Picture having two minds in your head at once. But it mostly was the result of radio frequencies being shoddy at best. Jake was working on a way to do away with the chips entirely when he got canned.” She reaches down into her desk drawer to pull out a notebook. “Sorry, I need to document that fire out there.”

“Is that even possible? Swapping brain frequencies without implants, I mean?” Mulder asks, true to form by having his interest piqued at the mere mention of something totally ludicrous.

“Not that I’m aware of, no. You can’t just zap people’s minds into another body with a flash of light, you know?” The look on Tania’s face at even having to say this is enough to make Scully feel less like the lone rational mind in this alternate dimension she entered in 1992. “I just can’t believe he would really go through with this.”

“So he told you what he was planning?” Mulder makes note of this on his pad.

“Well, to be fair, I thought he was joking when he said, ‘Do you think anyone would even notice if a few vegetables went missing?’ A couple of years ago. He had kind of a fucked up sense of humor.” She puts her notebook back.

“And you didn’t think to tell this to the police because…?” Scully asks, more than a little annoyed at this point. The Tania she knew could be careless, and that’s to be expected of a smart girl finally let off the leash of her family’s strict hold—Scully had been the same way at 22–but they aren’t kids anymore, and Tania’s clearly hiding something.

“Because until you showed up, I had a hunch, but I wasn’t completely sure it was him. I _had_ to be sure. Jake’s a psycho and I’m the only other person who knew about this stuff. I worried what he would do if I sent the cops after him without cause.” It’s convincing, but Mulder’s old adage of Trust No One, not even one of her oldest friends, is whispering in the back of Scully’s mind, and the same seems to be true for Mulder.

“So you weren’t just covering for your old work buddy? Or maybe you were more than that.” Mulder suggests, and at the last part, Scully notices Tania’s knuckles turn white.

“We were not friends, and we _certainly_ were not whatever you two are. We worked on one project together and honestly, he’s a jackass. Is that all you came to talk to me about, Dana?” She asks, apparently deciding to ignore Mulder’s presence from now on.

At this point, Scully’s almost hesitant to get Tania’s take on Emily’s implant. If this is yet another Halliday project, then she’ll likely hit another brick wall. But a part of her would like to believe that the girl who once took care of her when she got the flu a week into term is still willing to help her with something.

“I also have something else I thought you might take a look at for me.” Scully produces the information about the implant, having separated it from anything that referred to Emily by name. “Do you by any chance know what this is for?”

Tania regards it for a moment, nothing in her face indicating any kind of immediate recognition, which is comforting. “Hmm. Well, at first glance, it resembles your average shunt, but you see that little computer chip-like implant there? It looks to me to be a deep brain stimulation chip on the pineal gland, which as you'll recall from anatomy class is basically the only part of the brain that has a metric fuckton of blood supply to it, but it also has some huge effect on behavior, sleep patterns, and even the onset of puberty symptoms in kids. Sometimes if there's a tumor there, it can cause hydrocephalus, which would explain the tubing for this, or maybe hydrocephalus is a side effect of the chip itself..” She points to Scully’s exact fixation. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that Jake’s been working with the government on some kind of treatment for a rare disease that stemmed from right there, but it’s all been very hush-hush. You’re probably in a better position to learn about that than I am.”

Scully scoffs. “You’d be surprised.”

“Gotta love bureaucracy. Anyway, as I said, it’s all been kept pretty under-wraps, but I hear Jake made a pretty penny from the contract. The way it’s all been treated, I can only assume that this is a man-made disease. Maybe something from Agent Orange or all the crap used in Desert Storm.” Tania shrugs. “It’s the only explanation I can think of for why the government would be funding the research for something supposedly rare, anyway. God only knows what’s building up in these poor SOBs’ brains…” She trails off, her mind on hypothetical ex-soldiers while Scully can only think of Emily.

Her poor little girl has been subjected to God knows what since conception without any thought given to how it would affect her life. Scully would like to think that there will come a time when the experiment will be over and something can be done to make her daughter normal again, but the truth is that she’s never _been_ normal and likely never can be. That’s just something she’ll have to get used to.

“Yeah.” She nods, taking the document back and putting it in with Emily’s file again.

“Sorry I couldn’t be more help. But if you’re ever back in town for pleasure instead of business, we really need to catch up.” Tania gestures to Mulder. “Especially regarding this one and your kid.”

“Absolutely. I’ll bring the vodka.” Scully says with a half-smile, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy while she feels everything she’s ever known come crashing down around her at the realization that the truth Mulder’s so desperately been looking for—that she’s fought tooth and nail against—could literally lie within her only child’s head.

“Oh, you’re still bad. Be careful with this one, Foxy.” Tania gets up from her desk to show them out of her office.

“I’ll try.” Mulder smiles, his hand instinctively going to the small of Scully’s back as he leads her out to the hallway.

“Bye, Tania.” She calls, turning to Mulder the second the door closes.

“So, she seems nice.” He says, putting his notepad back in his pocket. “Though I have a feeling she knows more than she’s letting on about Project Soul.” He leads the way down the hallway and back up the stairs to the ground floor.

“I agree. But for now, we just have to take her word for it until we find any solid evidence saying otherwise.” Scully leads the way out to the car, allowing Mulder to unlock it and getting into the passenger side.

“So, about what she said about Emily’s implant…” Mulder’s hand drifts over to lay across Scully’s on the center console.

“Most of what she said makes sense, but not all of it. Emily does not have, nor has she ever even shown symptoms of hydrocephalus so there’s no reason for her to have a shunt unless her central nervous system is dealing with a buildup of fluid that’s not naturally occurring, which would explain the green tumor and her compromised immune system in 1997. And that chip could very well be sending out receptors that are causing it, or are inhibiting it somewhat.” She rubs at her temple with her free hand, leaning her elbow on the car door. They're basically back to square one because they know squat.

“So chances are, this is just a mechanical replacement of those injections she was being given before?” Mulder suggests, apparently avoiding the A or E words at all costs for the first time in all the years Scully’s known him to instead opt for a frank medical discussion. Six years together and he’s still surprising her- she knew she fell in love with him for a reason.

“That’s where I’m not so sure. I never understood whether the injections were what was helping her or what made her sick in the first place. I tend to lean toward the former because she only became ill when Roberta Sim stopped the injections, but maybe that’s not it at all. Either way, we’re going to find out.” Scully reaches up to get her seatbelt, fixating on the way the strap has twisted in such a way that it takes her a good minute to get it straightened out again.

“Scully, I know how hard this is for you. But you always have to remember that Emily’s still the same sweet little girl we love to pieces, even if there's nothing that can be done about...whatever this is.” His fingers draw lines down the veins on the top of her hand.

“I know that, Mulder.” She’s all but lost any real hope for any kind of "cure" at this point, but the minute she admits total defeat is when she’ll have to confront the fact that her daughter might not even be fully  _human._ “I just need to know the truth.”

“Then let’s get a warrant for Halliday’s warehouse. Kersh will have both our asses if we break into the same place twice in 24 hours, and with what Tania just told us about Soul, I think we have probable cause.” He turns the key in the ignition and pulls out of the parking lot as Scully gets out her cell phone.

“On it. I’m just having the field office in San Jose run the DNA on those patients we did find.”

Up close, Jacob Halliday is even smugger than Scully could have ever anticipated of a man in what looks like a discount Brooks Brother’s suit. “FBI. We have a warrant to search the premises.” She says, holding up her badge to him while he continues to smirk at her, his eyes, trailing up and down her body. It’s not like Scully’s never been ogled by creepy men before, but something about this is just plain insidious.

“On what grounds?” He asks, his eyes drifting to Mulder.

“On the grounds of you conducting illegal experiments on unwilling coma patients.” Mulder pushes past him into what he and Scully both remember to be the room that housed the patients, but which Scully now sees contains only some pieces of machinery.

“Wh-“ She starts, looking around.

“You two really thought I wouldn’t have security cameras in here?” Halliday asks, stepping into the room and locking the door behind him, the bald guard emerging from the shadows.

“We are federal agents and if you don’t let us go-“ Scully starts just as Wannabe Stone Cold grabs Mulder and another unknown person yanks her hands behind her back, tying them together with rope.

“You’ll what, Red?” Halliday asks, stepping closer to the machines and grabbing a pair of what looks like welding goggles while Scully struggles against the rope to no avail. “That’s what I thought.”

“People know we’re here. kidnapping two FBI agents will get you thrown in federal prison for a long, long time, Jake.” Mulder threatens as he and Scully are herded to the center of the room.

“Who said anything about kidnapping? On the contrary, I fully intend on letting you go. But first, I think I’ve found the perfect subjects for my latest breakthrough.” Halliday puts his goggles on and flicks a few switches on his machine as it roars to life.“And Tania said it couldn’t be done. You guys are gonna love this.” He throws a lever and the room is flooded with a bright light.

* * *

It was all a dream. That’s the only think Scully can think when she awakes in the Marriott, the familiar smell of Mulder all around her as light streams in through the window. They must have forgotten to close the blinds last night before bed. That’s it.

It feels like she went to sleep in her clothes, save her bra and shoes, which is odd unless she drunkenly passed out. Did she and Mulder drink last night? It doesn’t make sense, but it’s a far better explanation than that some mad scientist zapped her and Mulder with some kind of ray gun.

Scully yawns and her hand goes to her mouth, only to recoil when it feels like her face grew spikes overnight. She slowly looks to her hand, finding it a lot bigger, darker, and hairier than it had over been. She’s almost afraid to look over in bed, but she has to confirm her fears as she turns onto her side to see _herself_ sleeping beside her, perfectly content until it opens its eyes slowly and looks over to her, eyes adjusting a moment before they widen and it shrieks.

Scully throws the sheets off of herself and jumps out of bed, almost getting a feeling of vertigo when she finds herself much higher off the ground than she’s used to. She runs to the full-length mirror and can barely contain what comes out like a gasp/sob when she confirms what she’d been dreading.

She’s Mulder, and that can only mean-

“S-Scully?” Her own voice calls meekly from the bed.

Scully turns around and nods, her eyes closed as if when she opens them again, she won’t still be inhabiting her boyfriend’s body.

“What are we gonna do?” Mulder asks, pulling at a lock of Scully’s hair and then looking down at her body, his hands instantly going to her chest. “What the FUCK are we gonna do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was a lot of reading, wasn't it? I totally get if you're too tired to leave a comment now but I'm also a total slut for comments, so if you all could let me know if you enjoy my fake alien science, or if you would like a lot of top-notch MSR next chapter to make up for it, that would be rad.


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